THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  RUSSIAN 
SCHOOL  OF  PAINTING 


THIS  WORK  HAS  BEEN  TRANSLATED 
FROM   THE   ORIGINAL   RUSSIAN   BY 

ABRAHAM  YARMOLINSKY 


NICHOLAS    II 


THE  RUSSIAN 
SCHOOL  OF  PAINTING 

By  ALEXANDRE  BENOIS 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 

CHRISTIAN  BRINTON 

WITH  THIRTY-TWO  PLATES 


NEW  YORK  <  ALFRED  A.  KNOPF  <  1916 


COPYKIGHT,  1016,  BY 

ALFRED  A.  ICNOPF 

All  rights  reserved 


COMPOSITION   AND   ELECTEOTYPING  BY   THE  VAIL-BALLOtT   CO. 

PAPER   SUPPLIED  BY   HENRY  LINDENMEYR  &   SONS  AND  LOUIS  DE   JONGE  AND  COMPANY 

PLATES   ENGRAVED   BY   THE   WALKER   ENGRAVING   CO. 

PBESSWORK   AND   BINDING   BY    THE    PLIMPTON    PRESS 

PRINTED    IN    THE    UNITED    STATES    OP    AMERICA 


College 
Library 


An  Epistolary  Preface 

By 

Christian  Brinton 

My  dear  Alexandre  Benols : — 

It  is  with  a  sense  of  pleasure  and  privilege  that  I  as- 
sume the  responsibility  of  commending  your  resume  of 
Russian  painting  to  the  American  public.  To  you  who 
are  so  familiar  with  the  intellectual  and  artistic  physi- 
ognomy of  your  country  the  preparation  of  these  pages 
was  a  labour  of  love  into  which  you  put  the  full  meas- 
ure of  your  scholarly  exposition  and  discriminating  an- 
alysis. It  was  at  your  congenial  quarters  in  the  rue 
Cambon,  Paris,  during  a  memorable  engagement  of  the 
Ballet  Russe,  where,  as  you  doubtless  recall,  we  first 
projected  an  English  version  of  this  work.  The  pres- 
sure of  other  matters  prevented  the  consummation  of 
our  plans,  which  have  meanwhile  happily  materialized, 
thanks  to  the  discerning  initiative  of  a  young  publisher 
who  vies  with  us  in  the  admiration  of  Slavonic  letters 
and  art. 

When,  my  dear  Benois,  you  and  I  met  so  fraternally 
in  Rome,  Paris,  London,  and  elsewhere  Russian  art, 
and  more  specifically  the  art  of  the  theatre,  was  at  its 


xxJ  i  01.-6 


An  Epistolary  Preface 

apogee.  You  were  then  Directeur  artistique  of  the 
Ballet  Russe,  and  not  only  were  you  officially  allied 
with  that  incomparable  assembly  of  mimes,  musicians, 
and  metteurs-en-scene,  you  were  also  co-author  of  such 
productions  as  Le  Pavilion  d'Armide  and  the  racy  and 
poignant  Petrouchka.  For  the  time  being,  indeed,  the 
vogue  of  the  ballet  obscured  the  more  substantial  and 
not  less  significant  triumphs  of  Russian  brush  and  pa- 
lette as  seen  in  studio  or  on  exhibition  wall.  The  gen- 
eral public  was  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  such  men  as 
Syerov,  Roerich,  Anisfeld,  Golovin,  Vrubel,  and  your- 
self were  painters  in  the  more  explicit  meaning  of  the 
term.  And  still  less  did  the  average  person  realize  that 
the  ballet  was  but  a  phase  of  certain  deep-rooted  aes- 
thetic impulses  which  had  been  coming  to  focus  during 
the  past  score  of  years. 

The  one  thing,  however,  the  public  did  sense  when 
face  to  face  with  these  stimulating  spectacles  was  their 
effective  fusion  of  motives  Oriental  and  Occidental. 
The  Slav  looks  eastward  as  well  as  toward  the  west, 
and  this,  you  will  assuredly  concede,  is  characteristic 
of  your  country's  contribution  to  the  field  of  artistic 
endeavour.  Despite  the  drastic  Europeanizing  process 
inaugurated  by  Peter  and  continued  under  Elisabeth, 
Catherine,  and  subsequent  sovereigns,  that  typically 
Slavonic  note  which  we  instantly  recognize  and  relish 

vi 


An  Epistolary  Preface 

was  by  no  means  obliterated.  Changes  took  place 
along  all  lines  of  activity.  And  yet  while  Peterhof 
became  a  miniature  Versailles,  and  French  was  prattled 
in  the  salons  and  beneath  the  protecting  trees  of  Tzars- 
koye  Selo,  much  that  was  old  continued  untouched  and 
echoes  of  the  passionate,  enigmatic  East  still  persisted. 

In  art  as  in  life  a  sturdy  racial  integrity  is  with  each 
Russian  an  inevitable  birthright.  The  Russ  every- 
where reveals  his  power  of  direct,  concrete  observation 
and  his  ability  to  grasp  the  vital  aspects  of  a  given  scene 
or  situation  and  to  achieve  in  their  presentation  a  con- 
vincing measure  of  actuality.  It  is  such  salutary  tend- 
encies that,  my  dear  Benois,  mark  the  earlier  portions 
of  your  comprehensive  and  sympathetic  monograph. 
The  floodtide  of  realism  whether  historic  or  contem- 
porary was,  as  you  have  indicated,  reached  with  the 
work  of  Repin  and  his  successor,  Valentin  Syerov. 

The  movement  during  the  past  two  decades  has  been 
away  from  realism  and  naturalism  and  in  the  direction 
of  decorative  symbolism.  The  ideals  of  the  "Mir 
Iskusstva"  men  have  been  continued  by  the  younger 
spirits  who  to-day  write  for  "ApoUon."  Your  own  con- 
tributions whether  with  brush  or  pen,  as  well  as  those  of 
your  colleagues  Somov,  Bilibin,  Ostroumova,  Lebed- 
eva,  and  Lanceray  follow  logically  in  the  wake  of  that 
striving  for  more  purely  aesthetic  conquests  which  had 

vii 


An  Epistolary  Preface 

its  inception  in  the  early  nineties.  Colour,  a  distinct 
feeling  for  decorative  design,  and  the  free  play  of  fancy 
and  passion  are  the  characteristics  of  the  newer  school. 
The  particular  group  to  which  you  belong  has  revived 
the  graces  of  former  days  and  transmuted  the  fragrance 
of  the  eighteenth  century  into  something  spirited  and 
modern  yet  instinct  with  poetic  sensibility. 

It  is,  however,  far  from  my  intention  to  usurp  your 
function  as  an  interpreter  of  Russian  art.  In  your 
triple  capacity  of  writer,  painter,  and  dramatist  you 
possess  unique  qualifications  for  the  task  in  hand.  I 
can  only  add  that  you  have  here  achieved  your  habitual 
success,  and  that  I  am  particularly  happy  for  the  op- 
portunity of  acknowledging  even  a  small  portion  of  the 
debt  I  owe  you  and  your  ever  complex  and  inspiring 
country. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  Benois, 

Faithfully  yours, 

Christian  Brinton. 
Ardrossan  Park, 

September,  1916. 


via 


Table  of  Contents 


PAGE 

Foreword xv 

Two  fundamental  currents  in  painting. — Their  blending. — 
Methodical  principles :  manysidedness  and  proportionality. — 
Their  application  to  the  history  of  Russian  art. 

Chapter  I.     The  Eighteenth  Century      ....      17 

Old  church  painting  and  its  destiny. — Foreign  masters  in  Rus- 
sia under  Peter  I. — Efforts  to  implant  a  national  art. — Andrew 
Matvyeyev. — Ivan  Nikitin. — The  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth. — 
More  foreign  masters  summoned. — I.  I.  Shuvalov. — Origin  of 
Russian  painting. — General  character  of  the  Eighteenth  Cen- 
tury Russian  painting. — Art  schools. — Painters. — I.  Argunov. — 
Alexis  Antropov. — Shuvalov's  Academy. — Losenko. — Rokotov. — 
Levitzky. — His  two  manners. — Borovikovsky. — Other  portrai- 
tists.— Nicholas  Argunov. — Shchukin. — Landscape  painters. — 
Byelsky. — Destiny  of  Russian  architectural  painting. — Topo- 
graphical engravings. — Shchedrin. — M.  Ivanov. — Fyodor  Alex- 
yeyev. — Landscape  painters  of  the  old  school. — Galaktionov. — 
Martynov. — M.  Vorobyov. — Other  painters  of  the  "picturesque" 
school.— Alexander  BryuUov. 

Chapter  II.     Classicism <,^ 

\.  I.  Betzkoy,  the  new  head  of  the  Academy. — The  second  clas- 
sical Renaissance. — Academies  and  Classicism. — Academicism 
and  aesthetics. — Academicism  and  art  technique. — "The  Russian 
school  of  painting."— Akimov. — Ugryumov. — Yegorov,  the 
"Russian  Raphael." — Shebuyev,  the  "Russian  Poussin." — An- 
drey  Ivanov,  the  draughtsman. — F.  Tolstoy  and  Ivan  Ivanov. — 
Minor  Academicists. 

Chapter  III.     Romanticism 67 

Romantic  efflorescence. — Romanticism  in  Russian  literature. — 
Inferiority  of  Russian  art  to  Russian  letters. — Echoes  of  Roman- 
ticism in  Russian  painting. — Kiprensky,  the  forerunner  of  Rus- 
sian Romantic  painting. — His  portraits. — His  decline. — Or- 
lovsky. — His  sketches. — Tropinin,  the  "Russian  Greuse." — Karl 
Bryullov,    the    Russian    Delacroix. — His    youth. — Bryullov    in 

ix 


Table  of  Contents 

PAGE 

Italy. — "The  Last  Day  of  Pompeii." — Bryullov  in  Russia. — His 
portraits. — G.  G.  Gagarin. — Von-MoUer. — Bruni,  the  Naza- 
jene. — His  life. — His  "Brazen  Serpent." — Nature  of  his  talent. — 
Bryullov's  pupils. — K.  Makovsky. — "Decadence"  of  Romanti- 
cism.— Makovsky's  paintings. — Semiradsky. — Mikyeshin. — Other 
epigones  of  Romanticism. 


96 


Chapter  IV.     Alexander  Ivanov  and  Religious  Paint- 
ing    

Alexander  Ivanov  and  Romanticism. — His  education. — Ivanov 
in  Rome. — "Christ  Appearing  to  the  People."— His  Biblical 
sketches. — His  mysticism. — Ivanov's  followers. — N.  Gay. — His 
unbeautlful  art. — His  portraits. — Kramskoy. — His  "Christ  in  the 
Desert." — V.  Vasnetzov,  the  pioneer  of  neo-idealism. — His  aims. 
His  technique.— Nesterov. — His  landscapes. — Vrubel,  the  true 
successor  of  Ivanov. 

Chapter  V.     Realism  and  "Purpose"  Painting     .      .114 

The  place  of  the  realistic  strain  in  the  Russian  school  of  paint- 
ing.— Origin  of  Russian  realistic  painting. — The  part  of  foreign 
masters. — Venetzianov. — The  character  of  his  realism. — His 
school  and  its  destiny. — Realistic  portraitists. — "Genre"  paint- 
ings in  Russia. — P.  A.  Fedotov,  the  father  of  "purpose" 
painting  in  Russia. — His  life. — Art  with  a  social  tendency. — 
Fedotov's  satirical  pictures. — Perov,  the  representative  of  nar- 
rative and  denunciatory  painting. — Historical  value  of  his 
pictures. — The  First  Secession :  "The  Refusal  of  the  13  Com- 
petitors."— Its  significance. — Vereshchagin. — His  pictorial  inef- 
fectiveness.— His  place  in  the  history  of  Russian  painting. — I. 
Repin. — Repin  and  Kramskoy. — Nature  of  his  talent. — His 
lack  of  education. — His  portraits. — Other  representatives  of  nar- 
rative painting. — The  epigones:  V.  Makovsky. — Pryanishnikov. 

Chapter  VI.     History  and  Fairy-Tale 138 

Historical  painting  favourite  with  Russian  realists. — Repin's 
historical  paintings.- — "Ivan  the  Terrible  and  his  son  Ivan." — 
"The  Cossacks'  Jeering  Reply  to  the  Sultan." — Other  historical 
paintings. — Schwarz,  the  father  of  Russian  national  historical 
painting. — Surikov. — His  influence. — His  truly  Russian  colour 
gamut. — Ryabushkin. — S.  Ivanov. — A.  Vasnetzov. — V.  Vasnet- 
zov.— His  influence. — His  fairy-tale  pictures. — His  most  re- 
markable paintings. — His  school. 

X 


Table  of  Contents 


PAGE 

Chapter  VII.     Landscape  and  Free  Realism    .      .      .    150 

Two  currents  in  the  evolution  of  the  Russian  landscape. — Sil- 
vester Shchedrin. — M.  Lebedev. — Evolution  of  Russian  land- 
scape until  the  seventies. — Ayvazovsky. — M.  K.  Klodt. — 
Shishkin. — F.  Vasllyev. — V.  D.  Polyenov. — A.  Kuindzhi,  the 
impressionist. — The  Landscape  in  the  eighties. — Levitan. — The 
narrative  landscape. — His  technique. — His  truly  Russian  land- 
scape style. — The  poetry  of  Russian  nature  brought  to  expres- 
sion.— Levitan's  followers. — Nesterov. — Syerov. — His  artistic 
personality. — His  landscapes  and  portraits. — His  historical  com- 
positions.— K.  Korovin,  the  Bohemian. — His  decorative  works. — 
His  colour  gamut. — Free  Realists. — Braz. — Sergey  Korovin. — 
Arkhipov. — Pasternak. — Mary  Yakunchikov. — Grabar. 

Chapter    VIII.     Contemporary    State    of     Russian 

Painting 175 

The  critical-historical  method  inapplicable  to  the  treatment  of 
contemporary  art. — Absence  of  a  distinct  aesthetic  system  or  pro- 
gramme in  contemporary  Russian  painting. — The  future  of  Rus- 
sian painting. — Contemporary  masters. — Vrubel. — His  themes. 
His  genius. — Somov. — His  scope  and  talent. — His  technique. — 
His  place  in  the  history  of  Russian  painting. — Malyavin,  the 
bard  of  Russian  peasant-women. — Return  to  the  national  past. — 
V.  Vasnetzov. — Count  Sollogub. — Miss  H.  Polyenov. — Her  ef- 
forts to  develop  art  industries. — Malyutin. — Golovin. — His 
colour  gamut. — His  theatrical  decorations. — Bakst. — His  deco- 
rations.— His  book  illustrations. — The  Renaissance  of  the 
Russian  book. — Lanceray. — Bilibin. —  Roerich. — Dobuzhinsky. — 
Musatov. — The  phantasts  and  symbolists. 


XI 


List  of  Illustratio7ts 


Valentine  Syerov 

Dmitry  Levitzky 
\'ladimir  Borovikovsky 
Fyodor  Bruni 

OrEST    KlPRENSKY 

Karl  Bryullov 
Alexandre  Ivanov 
Alexandre  Ivanov 
NicoLAY  Gay 

\'lCTOR  VaSNETZOV 

Mikhail  Nesterov 
Vasily  Perov 
Vasily  Vereshchagin 
Ilya  Repin 
Ilya  Repin 
Ilya  Repin 

Vasily  Surikov 
Ivan  Ayvazovsky 
Ivan  Shishkin 
IsAAK  Levitan 
IsAAK  Levitan 
Valentine  Syerov 
Valentine  Syerov 
Valentine  Syerov 
Valentine  Syerov 
Mikhail  Vrubel 
Mikhail  Vrubel 

KONSTANTINE   SoMOV 

Philip  Malyavin 
Sergyey  Malyutin 
Ivan  Bilibin 
Arkady  Rylov 


Nicholas  II 


Frontispiece 


FACING 
PAGE 

Portrait  of  Princess  Golytzin 

32 

Portrait  of  F.  Borovsky 

49 

The  Brazen  Serpent 

80 

Portrait  of   a   Lady 

84 

The  Last  Day  of  Pompeii 

93 

The  Head  of  the  Apostle  Andrew 

97 

John  the  Baptist  Preaching  in  the  Desert 

:  100 

The  Crucifixion 

102 

St.  Nikita  of  Novgorod 

107 

The  Vision  of  St.  Bartholomew 

109 

The  Arrival  of  the  Governess 

116 

The  Mass  at  the  Battlefield 

125 

The  Bargemen  of  the  Volga 

132 

Ivan  the  Terrible  and  His  Son 

141 

The    Cossacks'   Jeering    Reply    to    the 

Sultan 

144 

Boyarynia  Morozov 

148 

The  Wave 

157 

The  Forest  in  Winter 

161 

The  Breeze 

162 

The  Pond 

164 

October 

166 

Boys 

168 

Ida  Rubinstein 

171 

Portrait  of  Princess  Yusupov 

»73 

The  Daemon 

175 

The  Daemon  (Final  Version,  1902) 

176 

At  Evening 

178 

A  Portrait 

180 

Portrait  of  the  Artist 

189 

Illustration  to  a  Fairy  Tale  by  Pushkin 

191 

Spring 

193 

XIU 


Foreword 

If  we  follow,  in  the  history  of  painting,  the  attitude 
of  artists  of  different  epochs  and  nations  toward  their 
art,  if  we  consider  what  is  to  them  more  essential :  paint- 
ing itself  or  the  ideas  painting  conveys,  we  notice  two 
fundamental  currents  in  artistic  activity.  One  has 
sprung  from  an  exclusive  quest  for  beauty,  the  source 
of  the  other  is  the  desire  to  impress,  by  means  of  paint- 
ing, something  amusing,  or  instructive,  or  denunciatory. 
Some  artists  gave  expression  in  their  works  to  their 
sentiment  of  beauty  without  any  doctrinaire  motive 
whatsoever;  others  used  painting  as  a  mere  auxiliary 
for  the  purpose  of  expressing  ideas  of  a  completely  non- 
artistic  order.  In  the  latter  case  painting  was  domi- 
neered by  literature,  philosophy,  and  religion ;  it  played 
a  subsidiary  role. 

Sometimes,  however,  these  currents  flowed  together. 
In  times  of  intense  religious  fervour,  or  in  the  art  of 
isolated  religious  individuals  the  quest  for  beauty  in 
painting  mingled  inseparably  with  the  expression  of 
their  religious  and  philosophical  views.  It  is  in  such 
epochs  and  by  such  men  that  there  were  created  the 

XV 


Foreword 

greatest  works  of  art,  quite  as  rich  in  extrapictorial 
thought  as  they  were  beautiful  from  the  standpoint  of 
purely  artistic  merit.  On  the  contrary,  in  epochs  of 
weakening  faith  the  quest  for  beauty  assumed  a  nar- 
rowly aesthetic,  specific  character,  and  little  by  little  art 
swerved  into  scholasticism,  or  academicism.  Finally, 
in  epochs  dominated  by  the  capitalistic,  non-religious 
pursuit  of  earthly  welfare,  painting  was  subjected  to 
social  demands.  Casting  away  all  thought  of  beauty, 
which  by  some  theoreticians  was  confused  with  ethical 
and  political  principles,  men  forced  art  to  serve  social 
ideas — either  as  a  denunciatory  weapon  or  as  an  in- 
structive amusement. 

In  each  of  these  currents  there  appears  much  of  what 
is  curious  and  precious.  Yet  not  everything  is  curious 
and  precious  to  an  equal  degree.  If  some  works  are 
self-sufficient  and  eternally  youthful  artistic  revela- 
tions, other  productions  seem,  when  compared  with 
those  to  have  sprung  from  the  petty  cares  of  life,  which 
mirror  the  vanity  of  passing  interests,  or,  it  appears,  are 
the  fruit  borne  by  a  deadening  scholastic  routine.  A 
considerable  portion  of  Russian  painting — of  the  Wes- 
tern type — is  distinguished  by  these  very  traits  and  has 
so  little  in  common  with  the  true  nature  of  beauty,  that 
the  question  may  even  arise  whether  it  ought  to  be  con- 
sidered   from    the    purely    aesthetic    standpoint,    and 

xvi 


Foreword 

whether  this  element  ought  to  be  given  a  place  in  the 
history  of  Russian  art. 

Iconoclasm  of  whatever  sort,  however,  is  not  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  spirit  of  our  times.  He  who  in  the 
name  of  service  to  a  great  and  pure  ideal  would  rise 
against  petty  worldly  art  or  would  ban  those  works 
which  are  too  dependent  on  the  scholastic  model,  would 
gain  the  name  of  a  Vandal,  of  a  narrow-minded  and 
wild  fanatic.  The  striking  example  of  Hogarth  cor- 
roborates the  thesis  that  the  history  of  art  must  include 
all  the  important  artistic  phenomena,  even  if  they  do 
not  meet  the  purely  aesthetic  demands.  Hogarth  scoffs 
most  unceremoniously  at  the  precepts  of  Apollo;  he 
came  closest  to  the  literary  pamphlet  and  the  facetious 
"novella."  Yet,  who  will  raise  his  hand  to  do  away 
with  this  keen  saucy  buifoon?  There  is  no  question 
here  of  his  great  genuinely  pictorial  gift,  to  which, 
however,  he  paid  too  little  attention  and  which  showed 
itself  so  rarely  in  his  pictures.  Hogarth  must  maintain 
a  place  of  honour  in  the  history  of  art,  which  is  but  a 
part  of  the  records  of  human  culture.  We  owe  him  this 
— if  for  no  other  reason — because  of  the  marvellous  doc. 
umentation  of  his  pictures,  which  lends  them  the  melan- 
choly charm  that  only  echoes  of  bygone  times  possess. 

Likewise,  we  must  not  ignore  works  of  purely 
scholastic  merit.    It  is  certain  that  the  living  ideal  in 

xvii 


Foreword 

such  works,  turned  into  a  dry-as-dust  and  dead  pattern, 
has  become  petrified,  but  even  on  such  works  rests  the 
faint  reflection  of  beauty,  and  they  are  able  to  please, 
though  not  to  transport  with  delight.  If,  however, 
nothing — not  even  what  is  of  slight  importance — is  to 
be  ignored,  a  just  proportion  must  be  preserved  in  the 
exposition,  and  works  absolutely  beautiful  must  be 
preferred  to  productions  relatively  interesting.  The 
most  impartial  history  must  not  lose  sight  of  this  pro- 
portionality— otherwise  it  runs  the  risk  of  forfeiting  its 
fundamental  character  and  dissolving  into  utter  con- 
fusion. 

In  the  exposition  of  the  history  of  Russian  art,  more 
than  anywhere  else,  it  is  important  to  be  guided  by 
these  principles  of  many-sidedness,  tolerance,  and  har- 
monious proportionality.  The  study  of  Russian  paint* 
ing  from  a  purely  artistic  standpoint  would  bring  us  to 
such  unexpected  and  odd  conclusions  that  accusations 
of  incompleteness  and  partiality  would  inevitably  fol- 
low. For  the  number  of  purely  artistic  aspects  is  less  in 
the  Russian  School  of  Painting  than  in  any  other.  A 
considerable  period  of  Russian  painting  passed  under 
the  sign  of  academicism,  and  scarcely  did  it  free  itself 
from  its  trammels,  when  it  found  itself  involved  in  the 
complex  mechanism  of  "the  social  movement."  Dur- 
ing the  two  hundred  years  of  the  existence  of  Western 

xviii 


Foreword 

art  in  Russia,  it  has  produced  very  few  phenomena  of 
a  purely  artistic  character.  To  dwell  on  the  merits 
solely  of  this  element  would  mean  to  narrow  the  task  of 
the  historian  to  a  paradoxical  degree.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  most  indulgent  historian  in  his  studies  of 
Russian  painting  must  not  let  slip  through  his  fingers 
a  definite  ideal  standard,  by  means  of  which  alone  he 
can  clear  up  the  purely  artistic  significance  of  each 
phenomenon.  Only  when  assisted  by  such  an  ideal 
measure  will  he  be  able,  after  giving  due  credit  to  the 
local  and  temporary  significance  of  a  number  of  artistic 
productions,  to  single  out  and  shed  light  on  those  phases 
of  Russian  artistic  life,  on  which  rests  the  reflection  of 
the  eternal  and  all-human  enchantment  of  beauty. 


XIX 


THE  RUSSIAN  SCHOOL  OF 
PAINTING 

CHAPTER   I 

THE    EIGHTEENTH     CENTURY 

THE  history  of  Russian  Painting  of  the  Western 
type  begins  with  Peter  the  Great.  The  works 
of  art  belonging  to  Peter's  times  show  almost 
no  trace  of  the  art  of  old  Russia.  Only  in  church  paint- 
ing did  the  old  style  persist  for  any  length  of  time ;  but 
it  is  just  this  branch  of  Russian  painting  that,  even  be- 
fore the  time  of  Peter  the  Great,  had  already  lost  its 
original  and  traditional  character.  The  Russian  icon- 
painting  of  the  seventeenth  century,  which  had  just 
begun  to  free  itself  from  the  Byzantine  canon  and  to 
absorb  elements  of  national  taste,  mainly  in  the  choice 
of  colours  and  the  treatment  of  ornaments,  turns  aside 
at  about  the  middle  of  the  century,  and,  under  the  in- 
fluence of  South-Russian  and  Polish  cultures,  acquires 
an  unmistakably  "German"  bent.  The  Church  offered 
almost  no  resistance  to  this  current.  True  it  is  that  the 
Church  sturdily  upheld  the  integrity  of  Byzantine  tra- 

17 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

ditions  as  far  as  the  outward  demands  of  iconography 
were  concerned,  such  as:  the  choice  of  subject  matter, 
the  postures,  the  grouping  and,  to  some  extent,  the  ves- 
tures. Yet  the  Church  was  indifferent  to  the  fact  that 
the  very  type  of  the  saints,  under  the  influence  of  Ger- 
man engravings,  began  to  assume  a  sluggish  character, 
and  that  the  style  of  the  icons  became  broken,  flabby,  as 
remote  as  possible  from  the  stern  grandeur  of  the  By- 
zantine manner.  About  the  age  of  Peter,  and  for  some 
time  after,  this  current  became  even  stronger;  and  in 
the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  it  degenerated  into 
a  bizarre  mixture  of  the  Byzantine  pattern  with  the 
wild  eccentricities  of  the  German  rococo.  Academicism 
wiped  out  the  last  traces  of  Byzantinism  from  Russian 
iconography,  and  in  the  first  half  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury we  find  no  traces  of  it.  Only  in  the  popular  peas- 
ant arts  and  crafts  has  the  ancient  ecclesisatic  art  sur- 
vived to  this  very  day. 

It  is  customary  to  begin  the  history  of  the  Russian 
School  of  Painting  of  the  Western  type  with  two  artists 
sent  abroad  by  Peter  for  the  purpose  of  study.  This  is 
not  quite  accurate,  for  neither  of  these  artists  had  a  de- 
cisive influence  on  the  subsequent  development  of  Rus- 
sian art.  Of  far  greater  importance  for  the  Russian 
School  were  the  numerous  foreign  masters  summoned  to 
the  country  from  foreign  parts.    In  the  choice  of  these, 

18 


Tlie  Eighteenth  Ceittury 

Peter  gave  evidence,  if  not  of  taste,  at  least  of  great  per- 
spicacity. Among  those  invited  to  Russia  were  excel- 
lent artists  of  their  time:  the  engravers,  Adriaen 
Schoonebeck  and  Pierre  Picart;  sculptors,  Andreas 
Schluter,  Carlo  Barthohomeo  Rastrelli,  Pinaud;  paint- 
ers, Tannhauer,  Louis  Caravaque,  Tarsius,  and  Pille- 
ment;  architects,  Jean  Baptiste  Alexandre  Leblond, 
Michetti,  Maternovi;  whole  pleiads  of  excellent  carv- 
ers, weavers,  turners,  etc.  Toward  the  twenties  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  Russian  court  life  exhibited  a  per- 
fectly Western  appearance.  About  that  time  Pet- 
rograd  was  built  up;  on  the  site  of  former  huts  there 
grew  up  the  more  or  less  magnificent  houses  of  the  Em- 
peror and  the  most  illustrious  grandees ;  the  gardens  in 
the  young  capital  and  in  its  environs  were  decorated 
after  the  Italian  manner  with  statues  and  fountains, 
and  the  walls  and  ceilings  were  covered  with  elaborate 
paintings. 

To  continue  importing  foreigners  was,  however,  too 
burdensome.  The  Government  was  considerably  wor- 
ried by  the  fact  that  Russian  gold  flowed  to  foreign 
countries.  Hence  the  attempts  to  create  an  art  of  our 
own,  local  and  "less  expensive."  It  was  with  this  pur- 
pose in  view  that,  among  other  things,  several  young 
men  were  sent  abroad  to  perfect  themselves  in  art. 

Only  two  of  these  proteges  of  Peter  became  promi- 

19 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

nent:  Andrey  Matvyeyev  and  Ivan  Nikitin;  but  fate 
favoured  neither  them  nor  their  works.  So  few  of  these 
have  reached  us  that  it  is  difficult  to  form  a  correct  judg- 
ment about  their  authors.  Andrey  Matvyeyev,  who  re- 
turned home  in  1727,  lived  ten  years  longer,  and  died 
in  the  prime  of  his  life  and  talent.  He  received  his 
artistic  education  in  the  Netherlands,  under  the  guid- 
ance of  Moor  and  Schoor.  Several  authentic  works  of 
his  bear  witness  to  the  fact  that  he  had  mastered  the 
technical  methods  of  Western  painting,  but  they  are  too 
few  to  give  an  idea  of  his  personality  as  an  artist.  His 
portraits  of  Prince  and  Princess  Golytzin,  kept  in  the 
estate  Petrovskoye  (near  Moscow) ,  show  fair  draughts- 
manship and  a  skilful  touch.  But  what  an  immeas- 
urable distance  between  them  and  the  works  of  his  con- 
temporaries: Largilliere,  Nattier,  Rigaud,  Troost  and 
others.  Matvyeyev's  picture  in  Stroganov  gallery,  with 
its  smooth  painting  and  schematic  composition,  reminds 
one  of  a  poor  imitation  of  van  der  Werff ;  as  to  his  icons 
in  the  Cathedrals  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul  ^nd  in  the 
Church  of  St.  Simeon,  it  is  impossible  to  judge  them,  as 
they  have  been  retouched  in  later  times. 

His  unfinished  portrait  of  himself  and  his  wife, 
donated  by  the  artist's  son  to  the  Academy  of  Arts, 
stands  by  itself  in  the  common-place  painting  of  the 
early  eighteenth  century;  it  is  distinguished  by  a  pro- 

20 


The  Eighteenth  Century 

nounced  individuality,  a  vigorous  stroke,  and  its  pleas- 
ant greenish-brown  hue.  All  the  rest  of  Matvyeyev's 
works  have  perished;  some  have  disappeared — for  in- 
stance, his  portrait  sketch,  from  life,  of  the  Empress 
Anna,  which  as  late  as  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth 
century  was  in  the  Academic  Museum.  A  number  of 
them  have  entirely  lost  their  original  character,  owing 
to  repeated  retouching.  His  apocryphal  "Kulikovo 
Battle,"  in  the  Museum  of  Alexandre  III,  completely 
confuses  our  notion  of  this  master. 

Of  the  works  of  Ivan  Nikitin,  who  returned  to  Russia 
in  1720,  there  remain  to  us  even  fewer  examples.  Our 
opinion  about  him  must  be  formed  on  the  basis  of  a 
unique  work  which  is  fully  authenticated.  It  is  the  por- 
trait of  Baron  S.  G.  Stroganov,  kept  in  Maryino,  the 
Golytzin  estate,  near  Petrograd.  The  portrait  is,  from 
a  contemporary  viewpoint,  a  fair  but  not  an  extraordi- 
nary piece  of  work.  Although  interestingly  conceived 
and  not  devoid  of  elegance,  it  is  not  distinguished  either 
by  bright  characterization  or  by  any  remarkable  skill. 
Of  a  greater  value  for  the  revealing  of  Nikitin's  char- 
acter would  be  the  portraits  "Peter  on  his  Death-bed" 
and  "The  Hetman"  in  the  Academical  Museum, 
painted  very  skilfully  in  rich  colours  in  a  pleasant  and 
noble  colour-scale,  if  it  could  be  ascertained  that  these 
works  really  belong  to  the  brush  of  Nikitin,  and  not  to 

21 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

that  of  Tannhauer.  In  the  reign  of  Empress  Anna 
loannovna,  Nikitin,  who  was  involved  in  the  case  of 
the  monk  Josiah,  was  knouted  and  transported  to 
Siberia  in  1736,  whence  he  was  recalled  in  the  reign  of 
Empress  Anna  Leopoldovna.  However,  it  was  not 
given  to  the  artist,  worn  out  by  his  long  exile,  to  see  his 
home  again;  he  died  on  the  way,  in  the  fall  of  1741.  It 
is  probable  that  many  of  his  works  are  still  in  existence, 
scattered  in  different  estates  and  palaces,  but  it  will 
hardly  ever  be  possible  to  ascertain  what  pictures  are 
really  his,  as  one  authentic,  although  not  very  typical 
picture  is  not  enough  for  the  formation  of  a  definite 
judgment  about  a  painter.  The  single  work  of  Roman, 
his  brother,  the  portrait  of  Vassa  Stroganov,  is  interest- 
ing only  from  the  standpoint  of  costume. 

The  reign  of  Elizabeth  opens  a  new  period  of  Rus- 
sian painting.  The  queen  had  a  liking  and  a  discrimi- 
nating taste  for  luxury;  she  was  dissatisfied  with  the 
dulness  by  which  the  court  life  of  her  predecessor,  like 
that  of  the  petty  German  courts,  was  marked;  her  con- 
ceptions were  grandiose.  From  the  artistic  standpoint, 
the  reign  of  Elizabeth  was  to  Russia  almost  what  the 
reign  of  Louis  XIV  was  to  France.  In  her  reign  and 
for  a  time  under  her  personal  supervision,  the  Anninsky 
Winter  Palace  was  rebuilt.  Later  on  she  erected  a  new 
wooden  palace  and  almost  completed  the  new  stone 

22 


The  Eighteenth  Century 

palace  of  the  Russian  Emperors.  In  her  reign  a  great 
number  of  vast  and  magnificent  palaces  were  built,  or 
completely  rebuilt,  in  Petrograd,  Moscow,  Kiev  and 
elsewhere.  Under  Elizabeth  were  erected  the  best  and 
most  luxurious  Rococo  style  buildings  in  Russia:  the 
Smolny  Monastery,  the  Troitzky  Hermitage,  the  Cathe- 
dral of  St.  Andrew  in  Kiev,  and  others.  It  was  in  her 
time  that  the  Russian  magnates,  Stroganovs,  Voront- 
zovs,  Shuvalovs,  Sheremetyevs,  imitating  the  example 
set  by  the  Queen,  began  to  build  in  a  magnificent  and 
truly  European  manner.  Toward  the  end  of  her  reign 
Petrograd  and  its  environs  assumed  the  appearance 
which  they  have  preserved  to  a  considerable  degree  to 
this  very  day.  In  the  talented  Rastrelli,  Elizabeth 
found  her  Lebrun.  But  new  legions  of  masters  were 
needed  for  the  execution  of  his  innumerable  and  always 
excellent  projects — all  the  more  since  some  of  the  artists 
imported  by  Peter  were  already  in  the  grave.  Others, 
Pillement  and  Pinaud  among  them,  not  finding  enough 
work,  had  returned  home;  others  again  were  so  old  that 
they  could  not  keep  pace  with  the  feverish  activity  of 
the  young  generation.  Among  the  artists  imported  in 
the  reign  of  Elizabeth  the  most  noteworthy  are :  G.  H. 
Grot,  a  somewhat  manneristic  master,  but  an  artist  of 
an  unusually  delicate  and  soft  brush;  his  brother,  I.  F. 
Grot,  one  of  the  best  animalists  of  his  time;  Valeriani, 

23 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

an  expert  in  perspective,  who  proved  very  useful  as  an 
educator  of  the  young  Russian  artists;  the  decorators 
Perezinotti,  the  Grandizzi  and  the  Barozzi  brothers. 
Toward  the  end  of  Elizabeth's  reign  the  following 
artists  were  added:  Stefano  Torelli,  the  rival  of 
Boucher,  a  somewhat  monotonous,  but  excellent  por- 
traitist; Count  Rotari,  and  the  French  artists,  LeLor- 
rain,  Lagrenee,  Tocque  and  Develis.  A  brilliant,  spir- 
ited artistic  life,  such  as  was  to  be  found  in  the  most 
splendid  European  courts  of  the  time,  unfolded  both  in 
Petrograd  and  in  Moscow  during  the  sojourn  of  the 
court  in  the  capitals.  Queen  Elizabeth  Petrovna  con- 
sidered it  nearly  the  main  task  of  her  reign  to  lend  to 
Russian  life  that  illusory  lustre  of  an  ever  blissful 
Eden,  by  which  the  high  life  of  the  West  was  distin- 
guished. 

After  the  agony  of  Russian  culture  under  Peter  II  and 
Anna  loannovna,  a  reawakening  was  presently  felt. 
The  seeds  which  were  sown  by  Peter  the  Great  and 
which  for  fifteen  years  had  lain  in  the  soil,  soon  began  to 
sprout.  In  all  fields  of  endeavour  men  of  original  and 
truly  Russian  genius  began  to  arise;  and  there  came 
other  men  who  proved  able  to  appreciate  the  native 
talent,  to  set  them  working  and  to  support  them. 
Among  these  the  first  place  belongs  to  1. 1.  Shuvalov,  the 
noblest  of  Russians,  who  more  than  any  one  else  was 

24 


The  Eighteenth  Century 

eager  to  revive  all  the  educational  projects  inaugurated 
by  Peter  the  Great,  but  whose  views  of  art  and  artistic 
education,  naturally,  shared  all  the  usual  defects  of 
those  times.  The  fabulous  luxury  of  those  days  neces- 
sitated the  existence  of  our  own  artist-craftsmen,  but 
nobody  at  that  day  thought  of  our  own,  original,  na- 
tional art.  The  prestige  of  scholastic  aesthetics  stood  in 
the  way  of  a  deeper  insight  into  the  essence  of  art,  into 
its  pure,  inspirational  nature. 

There  is  a  peculiar  trait  of  the  Russian  School  of 
Painting  in  its  early  phase,  which  has  also  somewhat 
influenced  its  subsequent  development.  Painting  in 
Russia  came  into  existence  not  as  a  response  to  the  de- 
mands of  her  entire  society.  It  was  rather  the  will  of 
the  Government  and  of  the  aristocracy,  who  longed  for 
the  externalities  of  life  similar  to  those  of  the  West, 
that  called  Russian  painting  into  life.  That  is  why  it 
would  be  useless  to  look  for  an  original  national  spirit 
even  in  the  best  representatives  of  the  Russian  School 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  We  can  find  some  ten 
gifted  and  very  well  educated  artists,  who  on  account  of 
their  purely  pictorial  merits  may  be  placed  alongside  of 
the  best  names  of  the  European  schools;  but  these 
masters  lack  utterly  the  original,  personal  note,  the 
specific  "Russian"  sensibility. 

That  is  why  the  best  that  was  done  in  Russian  Paint- 

25 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

ing  of  the  eighteenth  century  is  portraits ;  and,  partly, 
landscapes,  nature  "portraits,"  as  it  were.  Portrait 
painting  demands  great  talent  and  technical  knowl- 
edge, but  it  does  not  necessarily  need  a  pronounced 
artistic  individuality.  The  Russian  artists  of  the 
eighteenth  century  possessed  both  knowledge  and 
technical  skill,  but  they  lacked  imagination  and  free- 
dom. They  had  no  taste  for  these  precious  gifts.  Just 
as  the  caftans  and  gowns  were  imported  from  Paris,  so 
the  aesthetics  of  the  Russian  nobility  was  derived 
directly  from  the  Parisian  Academy.  What  held  the 
interest  of  our  noblemen  was  not  Watteau  or  Lancret, 
or  the  more  intelligible  Boucher  and  Fragonard — those 
marvellous  phantasts  of  the  eighteenth  century — nor 
even  Chardin  or  Chodowiecky,  those  most  delicate  poets 
of  the  hearth — but  rather  that  bombastic  official  art, 
which  in  the  Academies  passed  for  Grand-Art. 

In  the  reign  of  Peter  the  Great  there  was  founded 
a  school  of  drawing  at  the  Petrograd  Printing-house. 
Later  on,  under  Catherine  I,  an  art  department  was 
organised  at  the  Academy  of  Sciences,  owing  to  the  ef- 
forts of  Avramov.  In  1748,  under  Elizabeth,  a  statute 
was  approved  establishing  the  Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  at 
the  Academy  of  Sciences.  At  its  head  was  put  a  typical 
representative  of  his  time,  the  "Professor  of  Allegory" 
Shtelin.    Finally,  in  1757,  owing  to  the  zeal  of  I.  I. 

26 


The  Eighteenth  Century 

Shuvalov,  a  completely  organised  Academy  of  Fine 
Arts  was  definitely  established.  Nominally,  the  new 
institution  was  connected  with  the  University  of  Mos- 
cow, but  its  seat  was  in  Petrograd,  the  centre  of  court 
and  aristocratic  life.  The  Academy  was  an  artistic  hot- 
house, similar  in  character  to  the  entire  group  of  Rus- 
sian and  foreign  masters,  who  were  independent  of  the 
Academy,  and  usually  lived  in  the  northern  capital, 
leaving  it  only  to  follow  the  court  in  its  migrations. 

Under  Elizabeth,  a  number  of  Russian  artists  be- 
came prominent  before  the  Academy  of  Fine  Arts  was 
founded.  Their  appearance  bears  witness  to  the  ef- 
florescence of  Russian  culture  in  the  forties  and  fifties 
of  the  eighteenth  century. 

Among  these  artists  the  following  deserve  our  atten- 
tion: Ivan  Argunov,  a  serf  of  Count  Sheremetev,  A. 
Matvyeyev's  relative;  Alexyey  Antropov,  a  master  of 
design  and  perspective;  Makhayev,  Valeriani's  dis- 
ciple; and  a  group  of  icon  painters,  rather  mediocre,  but 
interesting  for  their  quaint  attempts  to  combine  the  de- 
mands of  the  orthodox  canon  with  the  cleverness  of  the 
Italian  Rococo.  The  icons  in  the  court  chapels  of 
Peterhof  and  Tzarskoye  Selo,  and  those  in  the  Cathe- 
dral of  St.  Nicholas  of  the  Sea  in  Petrograd,  are  curious 
samples  of  this  style. 

Only  Argunov  and  Antropov  in  this  group  of  artists 

27 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

deserve  real  attention.  As  to  Makhayev,  it  is  hard  to 
pass  judgment  upon  him,  for  it  is  uncertain  what  really 
belongs  to  him  in  the  precious  series  of  engraved  views 
of  Petrograd,  which  were  published  during  the  last 
years  of  Elizabeth's  reign.  The  originals  painted  in  oil 
are  kept  in  the  Hermitage :  some  of  them, — for  instance, 
the  Summer  Palace,  are  painted  vividly  and  skilfully; 
others,  like  the  great  view  of  Neva,  with  dull  timidity 
and  in  a  mechanical  manner.  The  first  ones  seem  to  be 
the  work  of  Valeriani,  the  second,  of  Makhayev  himself. 
I.  Argunov  (1727-1797) ,  despite  the  researches  of  S. 
Dyagilev,  is  a  somewhat  obscure  figure.  Like  many 
other  masters  of  his  time  he  did  not  hesitate  to  sign  por- 
traits copied  from  other  people's  originals,  and  this 
mixing  of  copies  with  original  works  makes  the  estima- 
tion of  his  talent  a  difficult  task.  Thus,  it  is  to  be  re- 
gretted that  we  cannot  be  certain  of  Argunov's  author- 
ship in  regard  to  one  of  the  best  productions  of 
eighteenth  century  Russian  painting:  the  portrait  of 
Countess  Barbara  Alexeyevna  Sheremetyev,  which  can 
bear  comparison  with  the  portraits  of  Tocque,  Rotari 
and  Van-Loo.  Of  course,  all  the  interest  of  this  char- 
acteristic and  soundly  realistic  portrait  would  be  lost  if 
the  work  proved  to  be  Argunov's  copy  from  the  forgot- 
ten original  by  one  of  these  masters.  Equally  merito- 
rious are  the  portraits  of  Count  S.  B.  Sheremetyev, 

?8 


The  Eighteenth  Century 

Countess  V.  P.  Razumovsky,  and  of  the  Kalmyk  lady, 
Fatyanov.  Incomparably  poorer  are  the  series  of  other 
portraits  of  Argunov,  but  even  these,  in  addition  to  the 
charm  of  the  past,  interesting  costumes,  hair-dressing 
and  poses,  have  many  fine,  purely  pictorial  sides. 
Among  these  are  fairly  good  painting  (I.  Argunov  was 
G.  H.  Grot's  pupil)  and  sufficiently  correct  design. 

Almost  equally  confused  is  our  notion  of  the  other 
prominent  Elizabethan  painter,  Alexyey  Petrovich  An- 
tropov  (1716-1795).  He  was  a  person,  it  seems,  of 
no  ordinary  calibre.  His  main  merit  consisted  in  the 
establishment  of  his  own  school  of  painting,  which 
counterbalanced  the  official  Academy,  and  which  pro- 
duced one  of  the  greatest  Russian  painters,  Levitzky. 
The  descendants  of  the  latter  have  to  this  very  day  pre- 
served memories  of  Antropov,  as  of  an  independent 
man,  who  held  in  disdain  the  official  artistic  world  and 
warned  his  young  pupil  against  the  pernicious  influence 
of  the  Academy. 

Another  fact  which  speaks  in  favour  of  Antropov  is 
the  plasticity  of  his  nature.  He  was  all  of  41,  when, 
having  become  an  admirer  of  the  art  of  Rotari,  who  had 
just  come  to  Russia  (in  1757) ,  he  assimilated  and  made 
his  own  the  firm  and  lucid  manner  of  the  famous  Italian 
master.  It  is  in  this  manner  that  Antropov's  two  best 
portraits  are  executed :  the  portrait  of  the  unknown  in 

29 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

the  Tretyakov  Gallery,  and  the  portrait  of  Countess 
Rumyantzev  in  the  Museum  of  Alexander  III.  The 
latter  work,  dated  1764,  corroborates,  by  its  coarseness 
and  simplicity,  our  estimate  of  Antropov  as  an  energetic 
and  highly  independent  man.  Incomparably  weaker 
are  his  portraits  of  the  Czars,  in  which  the  artist,  unable 
to  paint  from  nature,  had  to  have  recourse  to  other  peo- 
ple's data.  Having  neither  virtuosity  nor  European 
schooling  (he  was  a  pupil  of  A.  Matvyeyev,  of  the  icon 
painter  Vishnyakov  and  of  Karavacci)  he  helplessly 
heaped  up  in  these  portraits  all  sorts  of  details,  borrow- 
ing them  from  the  works  of  Tocque,  Grot  and  Develis. 
Of  greater  interest  are  his  icons,  preserved  in  the 
church  of  St.  Andrew  at  Kiev. 

We  do  not  possess  enough  documents  to  form  a  com- 
plete judgment  as  to  what  "Shuvalov's"  Academy  of 
Arts  really  was.  It  seems  to  have  been  something  in 
the  nature  of  a  large  art  studio,  where  almost  mature 
men  were  admitted,  and  where  the  teaching  process  was 
more  or  less  free.  In  keeping  with  the  purely  practical 
spirit  of  Peter  the  Great's  educational  reforms,  the  aim 
of  the  Academy  was  not  "to  educate  men,"  but  "to  form 
artists."  It  is  natural,  then,  that  what  the  Academy 
produced  was  a  number  of  masters  of  considerable 
technical  skill.  The  following  artists  became  promi- 
nent: in  architecture,  Bazhenov,  Starov  and  Ivanov; 

30 


The  Eighteenth  Century 

in  sculpture,  Shubin  and  Gordyeyev;  in  engraving, 
Chemesov,  Kolpakov  and  Gerasimov;  in  painting, 
Losenko,  Rokotov,  Sablukov,  S.  Shchedrin,  Sere- 
bryakov  and  Golovachevsky. 

Falconet,  who  knew  Losenko  (1737-1773)  well, 
later  on  spoke  about  him  in  the  following  terms  : 

"The  poor  and  honest  fellow,  degraded,  starving, 
eager  to  leave  Petrograd  for  some  other  place,  used  to 
come  to  tell  me  his  troubles.  Then  despair  drove  him 
to  dissipation,  and  he  was  far  from  guessing  what  he 
would  gain  by  dying.  It  is  written  on  his  tombstone 
that  he  was  a  great  man.  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that 
in  Russia,  and  in  painting,  people  manage  to  make  a 
draughtsman,  a  fairly  accurate  copyist  and  a  painter 
of  no  talent,  a  great  man,  after  his  death.  The  Empress 
desired  to  encourage  him,  but  at  any  rate,  he  had  a  fine 
epitaph." 

These  good-humouredly  ironical  words,  very  applic- 
able to  Russian  art  in  general,  are  not  altogether  true  of 
Losenko.  Falconet  made  his  acquaintance  when  the 
unfortunate  artist  was  already  completely  worn  out  by 
the  duties  of  the  purely  bureaucratic  office  he  held  in  the 
Academy  (he  was  its  director) .  A  few  works  ex- 
ecuted by  Losenko  at  the  beginning  of  his  activity  pre- 
sent him  in  a  different  light.  Even  if  it  were  absolutely 
necessary  to  deprive  this  master  of  the  charming  genre 

31 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

picture  in  the  Tretyakov  Gallery,  which  is  attributed  to 
him,  yet,  owing  to  his  excellent  portraits  of  the  actor 
Volkov  and  of  Sumarokov,  and  his  admirable  studies 
from  nature,  Losenko  must  retain  a  place  of  honour  in 
the  history  of  Russian  painting.  Perfectly  cheerless 
are  his  historical  compositions,  in  which  he  painfully 
strove,  but  utterly  failed,  to  approach  the  "noble"  style 
of  the  Parisian  Academy. 

Rokotov's  personality  is  even  less  known  to  us  than 
that  of  Losenko,  but  his  great  pictorial  gift  is  attested  by 
his  numerous  works.  Rokotov  became  prominent  very 
rapidly.  In  1 760  he  entered  the  Academy — not,  surely, 
as  a  pupil;  and  as  early  as  1762  he  was  nominated  ad- 
junct-professor. In  the  same  year  he  painted  two  por- 
traits of  the  Emperor  Peter  III,  hardly  inferior  to  the 
best  works  of  Rotari.  Catherine  herself,  who  never  sat 
for  Levitzky,  graciously  allowed  Rokotov  to  paint  her 
portrait  from  life.  The  third  portrait  of  the  Empress, 
in  the  Romanov  Gallery,  was  considered  in  Catherine's 
life-time  the  most  successful  likeness  of  her.  At  the  end 
of  the  sixties  Rokotov  settled  definitively  in  Moscow, 
came  back  to  Petrograd  in  the  nineties,  and  died  in 
1812.*  This  is  all  we  know  about  the  master,  in  whom 
Russia  may  take  no  less  pride  than  in  Levitzky  and 
Borovikovsky. 

^  This  date  is  communicated  to  us  by  S.  P.  Dyagilev.     (Author's  note.) 

32 


PORTRAIT    OF    PRINCESS   GOLYTZIN 


Dmitry  Levilzky 


The  Eighteenth  Century 

In  fact,  some  of  Rokotov's  portraits  are  in  no  way  in- 
ferior to  the  famous  works  of  these  masters.  Here  be- 
long the  somewhat  coarse-grained  portraits  of  Pete  III 
strongly  reminiscent  of  Rotari,  as  well  as  the  wonder- 
fully painted  and  very  bold  portraits  of  Catherine  II  in 
white  satin  crinoline  (the  coronational — in  the  Acad- 
emy of  Arts) .  Here  also  belongs  the  somewhat  motley 
profile  portrait  of  the  Empress,  in  Gatchina,  the  por- 
traits of  1. 1.  Shuvalov,  P,  I.  Shuvalov,  I.  G.  Orlov,  and 
others.  Sometimes  Rokotov  soared  to  a  height  which 
brought  him  near  to  the  greatest  European  portrait 
painters:  to  Gainsborough,  Nattier  Latour.  Such  is 
his  portrait  of  Countess  Santi,  one  of  the  most  astonish- 
ing productions  of  the  eighteenth  century  both  for  the 
delicacy  of  characterisation  and  for  colour,  with  its 
charming  combinations  of  olive  and  pink  hues.  A  cor- 
sage of  modest  field  flowers  on  the  bosom  of  the  lady 
lends  to  the  work  an  intimacy  exquisite  in  its  simplicity, 
such  as  can  seldom  be  found  in  Levitzky  and  Boro- 
vikovsky. 

The  portraits  of  Levitzky  (1735-1822)  are  equally 
interesting  to  the  historian  and  to  the  painter.  He 
painted  a  great  many  of  the  prominent  leaders  of  the 
brilliant  reign  of  Catherine,  and  he  depicted  them  with 
perfectly  convincing  vividness.  He  succeeded,  like  no 
one  else  in  Russia,  in  expressing  the  characteristic  tone 

33 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

and  glow,  the  whole  outward  "manner  of  living"  of  the 
beau-monde  of  his  time,  and  at  the  same  time  he  created 
a  series  of  superb  specimens  of  painting,  hardly  inferior 
in  their  technical  perfection  to  the  best  works  of  West- 
ern schools.  One  easily  identifies  Levitzky's  works  in 
a  mass  of  other  paintings  by  the  totally  peculiar  "keen- 
ness" of  the  eyes  of  the  persons  presented,  by  their 
wholly  distinct,  slightly  mocking  smile,  and  finally,  by 
the  celebrated  mastery  with  which  silks,  laces  and 
jewels  are  painted.  This  son  of  a  provincial  clergy- 
man, who  received  a  wholly  practical  artistic  education 
in  the  studio  of  Antropov  and  under  the  guidance  of 
Valeriani,  must  have  been  possessed  of  an  unusual 
artistic  temperament  to  assimilate  to  such  a  degree  all 
the  splendours  of  the  technique  of  the  most  brilliant 
epoch  in  the  history  of  European  painting.  True,  he 
was  a  native  of  the  Government  of  Kiev,  i.  e.,  of  that 
part  of  Russia  where  Western  culture  was  implanted 
long  before  its  appearance  in  Muscovy,  and  where  it 
had  had  time  to  get  more  firmly  rooted.  Yet,  in  the 
matter  of  art,  Southern  Russia  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury was  not  favourably  distinguished  from  the  middle 
and  northern  sections.  The  local  engraving  school,  of 
which  Levitzky's  father  was  a  representative,  presents 
almost  no  artistic  interest,  as  it  was  a  poor  imitation  of 
German  etching;  and  to  consider  such  an  accomplished 

34 


The  Eighteenth  Century 

master  as  Levitzky,  junior,  a  product  of  local  Kiev  art, 
is  hardly  correct.  The  quick-witted  highly  impression- 
able youth  found  himself  in  Petrograd  late  in  the  fifties, 
that  is,  in  the  very  hey-day  of  the  activity  of  the  foreign 
masters  imported  by  Elizabeth,  and,  in  all  probability, 
his  taste  developed  under  the  sole  influence  of  this 
activity.  The  portraits  of  Rotari  and  Erichsen  taught 
him  firmness  and  lucidity  in  drawing,  the  pictures  of 
Torelli  and  Leprince — sumptuosity  of  composition  and 
elegance  of  poses;  finally,  to  Tocque  and  Roslin  he 
owes  his  wonderful,  purely  French  technique  in  the 
rendition  of  details.  That  Levitzky,  nevertheless,  has 
avoided  the  pit  of  "salon"  mannerism,  and  preserved  all 
the  freshness  of  his  provincialism,  that  he  remained  the 
keen,  somewhat  ironical  observer,  that  his  portraits,  de- 
spite the  Parisian  caftans  and  wigs,  exhale  a  great  sin- 
cerity— all  this  we  owe  probably  to  that  simple-natured 
Antropov,  who  drew  to  himself  the  gifted  youth  at  the 
time  he  was  painting  icons  for  St.  Andrew's  Cathedral, 
at  Kiev.  It  was  he  who  took  the  young  man  to  the 
northern  capital  and  shielded  him  against  the  influence 
of  the  Academy  and  its  bureaucratic  spirit. 

We  distinguish  two  manners  in  the  art  of  Levitzky. 
For  the  first  thirty  years  of  his  activity  his  manner  was 
that  which  he  acquired  in  his  studies  of  the  French  mas- 
ters.   The  works  belonging  to  this  period  are,  for  their 

35 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

pictorial  merits,  far  superior  to  the  later  portraits,  which 
partly  show  the  change  undergone  by  the  taste  in  art. 
The  rich,  mellow  colouring  of  the  admirable  portrait  of 
Kakorinov  and  of  the  two  portraits  of  Mme.  Lvov  re- 
mind one  of  the  productions  of  Greuse  at  their  best;  the 
portraits  of  the  pupils  of  Smolnoye  in  the  Peterhof 
Palace  are  executed  under  the  influence  of  Roslin's  cos- 
tume portraits,  but  with  a  vivacity  and  picturesqueness 
which  reveal  Levitzky's  acquaintance  with  the  works  of 
Van  Dyck.  Other  canvases  of  this  period  show  re- 
semblance to  the  portraits  of  Mengs,  the  older  Tisch- 
bein,  Torelli  and  Van-Loo,  that  is,  of  artists  still  bound 
up  in  their  technique  and  manner  with  the  great  tradi- 
tions of  Venice,  Flanders  and  France.  Entirely  differ- 
ent are  the  portraits  of  the  second  period,  such  as  those 
of  Lady-in-attendance  Protasov,  the  knights  of  the 
Vladimir  Order,  in  Gatchina,  and  others.  Here  in- 
timacy is  replaced  by  a  pursuit  of  grandiose  style ;  the 
rich  colouring  has  turned  into  a  dull,  tedious  colour- 
gamut,  and  the  technique  has,  to  a  considerable  degree, 
lost  its  vitality. 

Borovikovsky  (1757-1826),  always  quoted  together 
with  Levitzky,  really  belongs  to  another  period  of  Rus- 
sian painting,  and  is  a  representative  of  the  "new 
taste."  Borovikovsky,  too,  was  a  native  of  Ukraina. 
Catherine  made  his  acquaintance — he  was  a  retired  of- 

36 


The  Eighteenth  Century 

ficer  and  an  amateur  artist  at  the  time — during  her 
famous  Crimean  "progress"  in  1787.  The  success  of 
his  first  attempts  led  the  young  man  to  come  to  Petro- 
grad.  But  there  he  found  entirely  different  surround- 
ings, entirely  different  tastes  from  those  which  reigned 
when  Levitzky  had  moved  to  the  capital.  The  imita- 
tion of  the  warmth  and  richness  of  the  old  Venetian 
masters,  which  lay  back  of  all  of  Levitzky's  models,  was 
now  replaced  by  an  infatuation  for  classical  reserve  and 
grandeur.  Highly  coloured  dresses,  picturesque  hair- 
dressing,  gorgeous  combinations  of  gauze,  tinsel  and 
spangle,  had  gradually  disappeared.  Fortunately, 
Borovikovsky  had  the  advantage  of  being  in  his  early 
youth  a  pupil  of  Levitzky,  the  guardian  of  the  old  tradi- 
tions. Owing  to  this  circumstance,  and  also  to  the  fact 
that  Borovikovsky  did  not  get  into  the  Academy,  he 
formed  for  himself,  and  preserved,  that  rich  manner  of 
painting  and  that  picturesque  design  that  redeem  in  his 
pictures  the  defects  of  his  times :  a  certain  coldness  and 
stiffness,  and  also  monotony. 

Sometimes,  however,  this  stiffness  disappeared  com- 
pletely, and  then  Borovikovsky  showed  all  his  Southern 
good-nature,  coupled  with  such  a  delicate  understand- 
ing of  life  and  beauty  that  these,  unfortunately  few  ex- 
amples of  his  work,  are  on  the  same  level  with  the  best 
portraits  of  Levitzky.    Among  these  masterpieces  the 

37 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

first  place  is  held  by  the  poetical  portraits  of  the  beauti- 
ful princess  Suvorov  in  the  Tretyakov  Gallery;  to  these 
there  belong  also  the  portrait  of  Countess  Bezborodko 
with  her  daughters,  that  of  the  charming  Mme.  Lopuk- 
hin,  and  others.  In  former  times,  when  historical  and 
religious  pictures  were  considered  necessary  for  the  title 
of  a  great  artist,  Borovikovsky  was  highly  praised  for 
his  icons.  We  do  not  share  this  admiration.  Borovi- 
kovsky's  talent  was  not  deep.  All  his  portraits  are  su- 
perficial and  have  a  hackneyed  "family  resemblance" 
about  them.  It  is  natural  that  in  the  field  which  re- 
quires the  most  concentrated  feeling  and  the  deepest 
penetration,  in  religious  painting,  he  could  produce 
nothing  remarkable. 

Around  Levitzky,  Rokotov,  and  Borovikovsky,  there 
were  grouped  several  other  remarkable  portraitists,  who 
received  their  education  partly  at  the  Academy,  but  to 
a  great  extent  developed  independently.  Unfortu- 
nately, we  have  to  confine  ourselves  to  the  study  of  their 
works,  as  we  have  no  knowledge  of  their  artistic  per- 
sonalities. One  of  these  portraits,  that  of  Count  Dmit- 
riyev-Mamonov,  by  Shebanov  (Museum  of  Alexander 
III),  is  worthy  of  European  fame.  This  small,  pic- 
torially  modest  picture  bears  comparison  with  the  most 
celebrated  productions  of  the  exquisite  eighteenth  cen- 
tury art,  for  its  finesse  of  design  as  well  as  for  its  sure 

38 


The  Eighteenth  Century 

and  delicate  technique.  But  who  was  Shebanov?  We 
have  only  two  authentic  works  by  him :  the  portrait  just 
mentioned  and  another  masterpiece,  the  portrait  of 
Catherine  in  a  fur  hat  (the  original  is  in  the  Kamen- 
noostrov  Palace) .  Shebanov  appears  on  the  horizon  of 
Russian  art  like  a  fantastic  meteor.  It  is  certain  that  he 
was  Prince  Potyomkin's  serf;  it  is  supposed  further  that 
he  was  a  student  at  the  Academy,  and,  finally,  we  are 
told  that  it  was  in  Kiev  that  he  painted  the  portraits  of 
Catherine  and  her  favourite,  Mamonov.  Despite  the 
success  of  these  works,  the  name  of  the  artist  does  not 
occur  again  in  the  annals  of  art. 

Only  three  portraits  are  left  from  the  work  of  Drozh- 
zhin,  Levitzky's  disciple.  Of  these,  one  having  the 
character  of  a  self-portrait  (in  the  Tretyakov  Gallery) 
is  especially  good.  The  other  two  are  also  noteworthy : 
one  is  a  curious  family  group  (portrait  of  Antropov 
with  wife  and  son,  in  the  hall  of  the  Council  of  the 
Academy  of  Arts) ;  the  other  is  an  elegant  portrait  of 
the  handsome  dandy,  Maltitz  {ibid.).  In  addition  to 
these  there  are  known  only  a  few  icons  of  his,  which  are 
mediocre  copies  from  famous  originals.  Fate  has  been 
even  less  favourable  to  Miropolsky  (1759-1828),  and 
Komezhenkov  (born  in  1760).  Of  the  works  of  the 
first,  only  two  portraits — that  of  the  painter  Kozlov,  in 
the  Academy,  and  that  of  Prince  Vyazemsky,  in  the 

39 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

Archives  of  the  Foreign  Office — have  come  down  to  us ; 
the  work  of  the  second  is  represented  only  by  a  single 
portrait  of  doubtful  authenticity.  The  portrait  of 
Kozlov  stands  comparison  with  the  best  works  of 
Levitzky  and  justifies  the  kind  of  fame  which  the  artist 
enjoyed  among  his  contemporaries.  The  portrait  of  the 
"animal  painter"  Grot,  by  Komezhenkov,  is  weaker  in 
tone  and  less  perfect  in  painting,  yet  it  is  a  work  of  de- 
cidedly European  merits.  The  work  of  other  renowned 
artists  of  the  times,  such  as  Golovachevsky  (1734- 
1823)  and  Sablukov  (1735-1778)  is  represented  only 
by  copies. 

Let  us  mention  here  also  the  portrait  of  the  young 
Prince  Shcherbatov  in  a  hunter's  dress,  by  P.  I.  Sokolov, 
who  died  prematurely  (he  is  better  known  as  an  histor- 
ical painter),  an  admirable  pastel  portrait  of  Count 
Rumyantzev,  executed  by  Sazonov  in  the  style  of  the 
eighteenth  century;  finally,  an  energetic  oil  self-por- 
trait of  the  engraver  Chemesov  (property  of  Mme. 
Myatlev) ,  and  two  excellent  miniatures  by  Cherepanov 
( 1765) .  These  are  the  scattered  particles  and  crumbs, 
left  of  the  most  brilliant  period  of  Russian  portrait 
painting,  which  developed  owing  to  the  influx  of  first- 
rate  foreign  masters,  but  was  not  duly  appreciated  by 
a  society  indifferent  to  art. 

The  luckiest  of  these  masters  was  another  serf-artist, 

40 


The  Eighteenth  Century 

"owned"  by  the  refined  and  sympathetic  Count  N.  P. 
Sheremetyev.  We  refer  to  Nicholas  Argunov,  the  son 
and  pupil  of  the  above-mentioned  Ivan  Argunov.  N. 
Argunov  had  no  great  pictorial  gifts.  Compared  with 
the  portraits  of  his  less  fortunate,  but  more  talented  col- 
leagues: Shebanov,  Drozhzhin,  and  Miropolsky,  Ar- 
gunov's  paintings  seem  coarse,  dry,  dull.  They  have 
few  purely  pictorial  merits — correct,  careful,  somewhat 
mechanical  drawing,  respectable  vivacity  of  expression, 
but  alongside  these  are  very  dull  colours  and  very  dull 
painting.  Argunov  methodically  copied  what  he  saw, 
and  owing  to  this  quiet  regularity,  his  portraits  have  a 
value  as  historical  documents.  Some  of  them  are  in- 
valuable for  the  history  of  costume.  Others  render 
with  perfect  accuracy  the  appearance  of  curious  person- 
alities of  those  times.  First  among  these  is  the  family 
of  Count  N.  P.  Sheremetyev  and  his  poetical  wife,  the 
former  singer  in  the  Count's  domestic  opera,  recruited 
from  among  the  serfs.  Argunov's  best  portraits  are 
kept  in  Sheremetyev's  estate,  Kuskovo,  near  Moscow. 
A  word  must  be  said,  in  closing,  about  Shchukin,  after 
Borovikovsky,  the  most  talented  of  Levitzky's  pupils. 
In  his  first-rate  Portrait  of  a  Lady,  in  the  Tretyakov 
Gallery,  he  reached  high  pictorial  perfection  and 
created  one  of  the  most  picturesque  works  of  the  Rus- 
sian School;  his  portrait  of  himself  in  the  Academy  of 

41 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

Arts,  is  painted  throughout  in  an  unusually  harmonious 
and  beautiful  colour-gamut,  which  reminds  one  of 
Greuse  and  even  of  older  masters;  and  his  portrait  of 
Alexander  I  is  by  no  means  inferior  in  pomposity  to 
the  official  portraits  of  Borovikovsky  or  N.  Argunov. 
Yet  our  conception  of  Shchukin  is  strangely  unsettled : 
he  is  too  versatile  and,  at  the  same  time,  never  very  pro- 
nounced, never  very  characteristic.  He  is  a  good  artist 
of  a  vivid  talent,  impressionable,  but  superficial  and 
vacillating.  One  masterpiece,  however,  he  did  create. 
It  is  the  portrait  of  Paul  I  (in  Gatchina),  which  is 
worth  a  whole  historical  treatise — the  most  characteris- 
tic and  expressive  of  all  the  portraits  of  the  tragical  and 
enigmatical  figure  of  Catherine's  successor. 

It  has  been  mentioned  already  that  along  with  the 
portraitists  of  the  first  period  of  Russian  painting,  the 
landscape  painters  also  deserve  the  historian's  atten- 
tion. Indeed,  some  of  the  masters  of  landscape,  who 
became  prominent  under  Catherine,  still  preserve  their 
importance.  Already  under  Elizabeth  we  find  Mak- 
hayev,  whose  works,  if  they  do  not  reveal  any  talent, 
show  that  the  teaching  of  perspective  in  the  Academy 
reached  a  fairly  high  level.  Another  artist,  Perezi- 
notti's  pupil,  Alexyey  Byelsky,  who  also  became  promi- 
nent under  Elizabeth  and  who  took  part  in  the  decora- 

42 


The  Eighteenth  Century 

tion  of  the  Tzarskoye  Selo  Palace,  testifies  even  more 
eloquently  to  the  height  attained  by  the  instruction  in 
technique  of  the  period. 

Byelsky  was  in  his  time  known  as  a  stage  decorator, 
but  his  oil  paintings  alone  have  come  down  to  us.  His 
"Ruins"  (in  the  Museum  of  Alexander  III  and  the 
Tzarskoye  Selo  Palace)  are  little  more  than  an  absurd 
accumulation  of  Bibiena's  barocco.  They  have  not  a 
trace  of  the  orderliness  and  grandeur,  by  which  the  com- 
positions of  Pannius  and  Hubert  Robert  are  distin- 
guished. And  yet,  Byelsky  is  an  astonishing  phenome- 
non in  mid-eighteenth-century  Russia.  The  very  fact 
that  he  was  able  to  master  such  a  tremendous  mass  of 
forms,  that  he  was  able  to  glue  together  into  one  whole 
all  these  arcs,  colonnades,  pilons,  and,  thus,  solve  prob- 
lems most  difficult  in  their  way,  commands  our  re- 
spect. 

Unfortunately,  Byelsky  had  no  worthy  successors 
among  his  compatriots.  Russian  architectural  paint- 
ing produced  one  more  artist,  the  feeble  Farafontyev, 
and  then  fell  into  a  state  of  complete  oblivion.  People 
were  compelled  to  summon  foreign  stage  decorators, 
of  whom  the  most  celebrated  were  the  two  Gradizzi, 
Tischbein,  the  older  Gonzago,  Canoppi  and  CoUer. 
In  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century  architectural 
painting  disappears  completely,  as  it  found  no  appre- 

43 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

elation  in  a  society  which  was  growing  coarser.  As  to 
decorative  painting,  it  settles  into  that  dull  groove  of 
archaeological  realism  and  cheap  f eerie  effects  in  which 
it  still  runs. 

A  whole  pleiad  of  artists  continued  the  work  of  the 
topographer  Makhayev.  At  that  time  there  was  felt 
a  real  need  for  them,  born  of  the  same  impulse  that 
made  the  Russian  noblemen  have  their  portraits 
painted.  It  was  the  time  of  proud  self-immortalisa- 
tion. Russia  of  the  old  regime,  that  is,  before  the 
reign  of  Peter  the  Great,  was  little  more  than  one  vast, 
uniform,  wretched  village,  with  the  exception  of  Mos- 
cow, Kazan  and,  perhaps,  a  couple  of  other  cities. 
Civil  architecture  was  in  the  embryonic  state.  Even 
the  czar's  palaces  were  accumulations,  picturesque,  but 
absurd  in  their  confusion.  These  home-bred  sur- 
roundings did  not  rhyme  with  the  caftans  and  wigs  of 
the  nobility.  There  arose  an  urgent  need  of  a  regu- 
lation of  architecture  and  horticulture.  Both  Peter 
and  his  successors,  especially  Elizabeth  and  Catherine, 
took  serious  interest  in  the  building  of  palaces  and 
villas,  and  in  cultivating  gardens  and  parks.  Follow- 
ing their  example,  the  magnates  began  to  build,  and 
toward  the  end  of  the  century  all  the  nobility  was 
seized  by  the  building  mania. 

Of  course,  just  as  all  these  caftans,  rapiers,  and  wigs 

44 


The  Eighteenth  Century 

were  something  in  the  nature  of  a  masquerade,  so  this 
decoration  was  illusory,  but  as  the  deceptive  illusion 
had  all  the  appearance  of  reality,  it  captivated  and  led 
astray  the  most  sceptical  travellers.  It  was  necessary 
to  keep  up  this  valuable  illusion  to  the  very  last  de- 
tail; that  is  why  Peter  paid  so  much  attention  to  the 
art  of  topographical  engraving.  Etchings  of  newly 
erected  palaces  and  gardens  recently  laid  out  spread 
throughout  the  world,  and  everywhere  they  created  the 
impression  of  extraordinary  prosperity  and  of  the  ex- 
traordinary, perfectly  European  refinement  of  Russian 
life.  Under  Paul  a  special  class  was  established  at  the 
Academy  of  Arts  with  the  purpose  of  educating  such 
landscape  engravers,  but  soon  after  the  need  of  that 
showy  branch  of  art  disappeared,  partly  because  the 
building  fever  ceased,  partly  because  of  the  deep 
change  which  occurred  in  European  culture.  The  art 
of  Merian,  Silvestre,  Lepautre,  Perelle,  Piranelli,  Bel- 
otto  and  others  died  out  together  with  the  generation 
of  the  great  artists  who  erected  the  magnificent  palaces 
and  villas. 

Of  the  Russian  architectural  and  landscape  painters 
three  gained  prominence  under  Catherine,  the  older 
Shchedrin,  Th.  Alexeyev  and  M.  Ivanov.  Others, 
such  as  Prichetnikov,  Sergeyev,  Moshkov  and  Petrov 
were  almost  the  equals  of  these  masters. 

45 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

Semyon  Shchedrin  (1745-1804)  had  no  great  tal- 
ent. Some  of  his  pictures  and  paintings  in  water 
colours  are  executed  in  an  amateur-like  and  even 
childish  fashion.  His  colours  are  dry  and  dark;  the 
design  is  timid  and  betrays  his  lack  of  skill.  Some  of 
his  works,  however,  are  distinguished  by  haunting,  al- 
though hardly  artistic  charm,  and  justify  the  fame  he 
enjoyed  among  his  contemporaries.  Shchedrin  knew 
how  to  handle  a  given  landscape  so  as  to  produce  a 
striking  effect;  he  felt  the  fascination  of  fountains 
playing  their  jets  among  verdure,  and  he  revelled  in 
the  favourite  motives  of  the  times,  such  as  deserted 
nooks,  exquisite  meadows,  white  cottages  mirroring 
themselves  in  crystalline  ponds.  At  school  he  learned 
the  now  forgotten  science  of  grouping  landscape  mo- 
tives, and  his  naive  attitude  toward  nature  developed 
in  him,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  sense  of  colour.  His 
best  works  in  the  Gatchina  and  Pavlovo  Palaces,  when 
compared  with  Hubert  Robert's  productions,  look  like 
parodies  on  the  works  of  the  latter,  yet  they  are  not 
entirely  devoid  of  decorative  beauty  and  even  of  inti- 
mate gentle  poetry. 

Mikhail  Ivanov  (1748-1823)  is  a  greater  master 
than  Shchedrin.  His  water-colour  views  of  Tzars- 
koye  Selo  and  of  sites  visited  by  Catherine  and  Poty- 

46 


The  Eighteenth  Century 

omkin  (kept  in  the  Hermitage,  Tzarskoye  Selo,  and  in 
Parlovsk)  reveal  a  great,  almost  "English"  knowledge 
of  the  intricate  and  troublesome  water-colour  tech- 
nique. Besides,  Ivanov  drew  figures  very  well,  mas- 
tered perspective,  and  generally  in  contradistinction 
to  the  modest,  home-bred  Shchedrin,  he  came  up  to 
Western  standards.  His  repertoire  also  was  broader. 
He  easily  mastered  complex  scenes,  even  essayed  mili- 
tary ^  compositions,  and  seems  to  have  been  a  good 
cartoonist.  Nevertheless,  his  works  are  less  attractive 
than  those  of  Shchedrin.  There  is  too  much  skill  and 
dexterity  in  them,  and  too  little  attention  to  nature. 
Ivanov,  an  artist  of  the  manneristic  type — in  Paris  he 
was  a  pupil  of  Leprince — had  also  all  the  equipment 
of  a  decorative  artist,  but  works  of  this  type  have  not 
come  down  to  us. 

Infinitely  greater  than  Shchedrin  and  Ivanov  in  tal- 
ent is  Fyodor  Alexyeyev  (1753-1824) ,  one  of  the  best 
masters  of  the  whole  Russian  school.  Unfortunately, 
we  are  able  to  estimate  the  pictorial  gift  of  this  artist 
by  no  more  than  two  or  three  productions — whereas 
the  rest  of  his  numerous  paintings  are  routine  and  dull. 
Amongst  Alexyeyev's  masterpieces  the  foremost  place 

'  The  artist,  who  accompanied  Potyomkin  in  his  campaigns,  painted, 
from  nature,  many  episodes  of  the  Turkish  war,  among  others  "The 
Storming  of  Ochakov."     (Author's  note.) 

47 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

belongs  to  his  first-rate  picture  in  the  Museum  of  Alex- 
ander III.  It  is  the  "Quay  of  the  Neva,"  executed  in 
glowing  colours  laid  on  thick,  with  a  skill  unusual 
even  for  Western  art,  in  a  wonderfully  gorgeous 
colour-scale.  The  work  makes  it  evident  that  Alex- 
eyev  diligently  studied  the  landscape-painters  of  his 
times :  B.  Belotto  and  Hubert  Robert,  and  his  numer- 
ous excellent  copies  from  these  masters  corroborate 
this  conjecture.  Of  nearly  equal  merit  are  his  Neva 
landscapes  in  the  Winter  and  Tzarskoye  Selo  Palaces, 
and  in  the  Tretyakov  and  Yusupov  galleries.  Far 
weaker  are  his  Moscow  and  Crimea  landscapes.  Edu- 
cated on  the  architectural  forms  of  the  classical  West, 
having  borrowed  his  noble,  somewhat  monotonous 
palette  from  Belotto,  Robert  and  Guardi — he  was 
dazed  in  the  motley,  grotesque  Moscow  and  under  the 
shining  sun  of  the  South.  And  so,  quite  in  keeping 
with  the  spirit  of  his  times,  he  lent  Moscow  the  char- 
acter of  a  romantic  "Gothic"  city.  Nevertheless,  even 
in  these  productions,  Alexyeyev  is  superior  to  all  his 
Russian  colleagues  and  even  such  foreign  masters  as 
Paterson  and  Damame. 

These  pictures,  too,  are  notable  for  the  truly  artistic 
temperament,  the  sense  of  colour,  and  the  great  tech- 
nical knowledge  they  display.  What  lends  a  peculiar 
charm  to  Alexeyev's  paintings  are  the  human  figures 

48 


PORTRAIT    OF   F.    BOROVSKY 


\  ladimir  Burorikovshy 


The  Kighteenth  Century 

enlivening  them.  The  master  delighted  in  noting 
realistic  details  in  them,  and  this  trait  bestows  upon 
his  work  a  great  historical  interest. 

It  seems  proper  here  to  anticipate  somewhat  and  to 
treat  a  group  of  artists  who,  although  they  lived  in  the 
nineteenth,  kept  up  the  landscape  traditions  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  All  these  artists  were  by  no 
means  landscape  painters  in  our  acceptance  of  the 
term.  Nature,  her  moods  and  colours  held  no  interest 
for  them;  they,  too,  were  typical,  somewhat  narrow 
"view-painters,"  to  use  the  contemporary  term,  that  is, 
portraitists  of  definite  localities.  Those,  however, 
who  were  endowed  with  a  more  artistic  soul  could  not 
help  introducing  some  poetry  into  their  copying. 
They  also  mastered,  more  or  less  completely,  the  deli- 
cate problems  of  light  and  colour. 

Among  these  artists  belong  Galaktionov,  Martynov, 
Maxim  Vorobyov,  Alexander  Bryullov,  partly  also 
Silvestre  Shchedrin  and  M.  Lebedev,  and  finally,  the 
distant  epigones  of  the  school  of  M.  Ivanov  and  F. 
Alexyeyev:  Fricke,  the  brothers  Chernetzov,  Erassi, 
Lagorio,  Goravsky  and  numerous  architects  who  prac- 
tised water-colour  painting.  Especially  noteworthy 
are  the  first  four  artists.  As  to  Silvestre  Shchedrin  and 
M.  Lebedev,  we  shall  deal  with  them  later  on,  in  dis- 
cussing the  first  steps  of  modern  landscape  painting. 

49 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

Galaktionov  (1779-1854)  was  S.  Shchedrin's  pupil, 
yet  his  works  remind  one  of  F.  Alexyeyev,  rather  than 
of  his  teacher.  This  is  probably  because  about  the 
time  Galaktionov  reached  the  stage  of  independent  de- 
velopment, "park  painting,"  the  typical  phenomenon 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  had  ceased  to  be.  Alexan- 
der I  took  more  interest  in  cities,  camps  and  campaigns 
than  in  epicurean  life  jn  the  lap  of  an  artistically 
trimmed  nature.  Galaktionov  evinces  the  urban, 
slightly  official,  slightly  bureaucratic  spirit  of  the  time. 
In  his  drawings  and  lithographs — almost  none  of  his 
pictures  have  come  down  to  us — which  are  mostly 
views  of  Petrograd,  we  find  none  of  the  intimacy,  si- 
lence, and  cosiness  of  Alexyeyev's  pictures.  Galak- 
tionov delights  in  painstakingly  tracing  the  coping- 
stones  of  streets,  he  depicts  deserted  squares  and  ren- 
ders the  cold,  barrack-like  spirit  of  the  Petrograd  of 
Alexander's  times.  But  just  because  of  this  is  he  pre- 
cious, and  even,  to  some  extent,  poetical.  The  typi- 
cal traits  of  the  epoch  found  their  expression  in  his 
productions,  and  these  views,  drawn  intelligently,  if, 
pedantically,  are  an  image,  melancholy  in  its  accu- 
racy, of  days  bygone.  Great  charm  is  added  to  Galak- 
tionov's  paintings  as  well  as  to  those  of  Alexyeyev  by 
excellent,  well  grasped  figures. 

Martynov    (1768-1826),    who    travelled    far    and 

50 


The  Eighteenth  Century 

wide  in  European  and  Asiatic  Russia  and  who  exe- 
cuted thousands  of  very  common-place  water-colour 
paintings,  which  are  interesting  only  from  the  topo- 
graphical viewpoint,  would  not  perhaps  be  worth  men- 
tioning in  the  history  of  Russian  art,  if  not  for  his 
water-colours  and  his  coloured  lithographs  of  Petro- 
grad.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  even  these  discourage  one 
by  their  childish  design  and  poor  technique,  but  the 
naive  simplicity  with  which  they  are  executed,  the 
well-aimed  character  of  the  chosen  points  and,  espe- 
cially, their  astonishingly  just,  lucid,  and  even  poeti- 
cal colour  tones,  assign  them  a  modest,  yet  honourable 
place.  There  is  in  them  the  true  mood  of  the  Petro- 
grad  summer  which  is  not  devoid  of  a  great  and  elusive 
charm. 

Among  all  our  "view-painters" — Maxim  Vorobyov 
(1787-1855)  was  a  real  master  and  one  of  the  most  re- 
nowned artists  of  his  times.  In  fact,  Vorobyov  is  dis- 
tinguished from  all  his  colleagues  by  his  admirable 
skill,  the  many-sidedness  and  the  poetical  quality  of 
his  conceptions.  His  aquarelles,  modest,  but  exe- 
cuted with  a  great  deal  of  taste,  his  oil  paintings,  some- 
what tenuous  in  design  and  ineffective  in  colour,  but 
nevertheless  of  a  very  regular  execution, — all  this 
shows  an  excellent  schooling.  Vorobyov,  too,  was  a 
devotee  of  Petrograd ;  like  Alexyeyev  and  Galaktionov, 

51 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

he  was  captivated  by  the  granite  might,  the  lonely  maj- 
esty, and  the  exquisite  snobbishness  of  the  capital. 
At  that  time  Petrograd  was  freshly  built  and  its  de- 
terioration had  not  yet  begun.  For  its  unimpaired, 
well  sustained  magnificence,  for  the  austere,  harmoni- 
ous style  of  its  buildings,  which  mirrored  themselves 
in  the  incomparable  waters  of  the  Neva,  it  had  no  peer 
even  in  the  West.  Foreigners  considered  Petrograd 
the  eighth  wonder  of  the  world.  The  artists  who 
were  educated  in  the  Academy  on  classical  models, 
were  well  able  to  appreciate  the  beauty  of  architec- 
tural forms.  They  were  naturally  carried  away  by 
the  newly  built  grandiose  edifices,  such  as  the  Palace 
Square,  the  Exchange,  and  the  Navy  Office. 

Vorobyov,  however,  did  not  content  himself  with 
the  purely  architectural  side  of  Petrograd.  Gifted 
musically — Vorobyov  was  a  good  violinist — he  had  a 
feeling  for  the  fantastic  charm  of  moonlight  effects 
and  for  the  melancholy  of  white  June  nights,  stretch- 
ing enigmatically  over  the  noiseless  waves  of  the 
Neva.  And  if  in  these  pictures,  abounding  in  most  dif- 
ficult colouristic  problems,  he  now  and  then  fails  to 
master  the  colours  and  falls  into  black  tones,  the  fault 
is  not  so  much  with  him  as  with  his  age,  which,  gener- 
ally speaking,  had  a  poor  sense  of  colour. — Later  in  life 
Vorobyov  travelled  much  in  the  East  and  South.     His 

52 


The  Eighteenth  Century 

trip  to  Palestine  is  especially  famous.  Unfortunately, 
the  numerous  sketches  he  brought  from  these  voyages 
are  marked  by  that  triviality  and  poverty  of  colour 
with  which  works  superficially  felt  are  stamped,  and 
which  damage  most  of  the  works  of  the  pupils  and 
followers  of  Vorobyov. 

Among  these  landscape  painters  who  aimed  not  so 
much  at  the  expression  of  a  mood,  or,  at  least,  at  accu- 
racy in  rendition,  but  rather  at  striking  effects  and  con- 
ventional colouring,  who,  in  short,  were,  after  all,  what 
is  aptly  denoted  by  the  French  term  ''pittoresque" — 
among  these  painters  the  most  noteworthy  for  their  ex- 
cellent schooling  and  considerable  skill  were  the  fol- 
lowing: Maxim  Vorobyov's  son,  Socrates, — the  two 
Chernetzovs,  who  gave  many  purely  topographic  mod- 
els, in  finesse  of  workmanship  sometimes  hardly  infe- 
rior to  the  best  drawing  by  Galaktionov, — Rabus, — 
Rayev, — Goravsky, — the  water  colour  painters :  Beine, 
Klages  and  Premazi.  To  this  list  must  be  added  the 
name  of  the  celebrated  landscape-painter  Fyodor  Mat- 
vyeyev  (1758-1826) ,  who  specialised  in  Roman  views. 
The  later  followers  of  this  school  were:  Bogolyubov, 
Lagorio,  Meshchersky,  M.  Villier,  N.  Makovsky,  A. 
Orlovsky,  Sudkovsky,  Klever  and  many  others.  This 
heterogeneous  group  of  artists  may  be  considered  as  a 
whole,  for  to  all  of  them  the  main  aspect  of  their  artis- 

53 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

tic  activity  was  purely  exterior,  whether  it  was  a  dis- 
play of  a  dexterous  manner,  or  a  desire  to  strike  by  pic- 
turesque effects.  One  should  not  look  to  them  for  an 
intimate,  quiet  mood  or  for  a  concentrated  study  of 
nature. 

Apart  from  them  stands  Alexander  BryuUov  (1800- 
1877),  a  good  architect  and  an  excellent  master  of 
aquarelle  portraiture.  He  executed  a  series  of  litho- 
graphical  views  of  Petrograd,  which  are  superior  to 
those  of  Galaktionov  and  Vorobyov  for  correctness  and 
accuracy  of  plan,  as  well  as  for  the  magnificent  design 
of  the  figures  enlivening  the  landscapes. 


54 


CHAPTER  II 

CLASSICISM 

SHUVALOV'S  ACADEMY  did  not  last  more 
than  five  years.  The  Empress  Catherine,  un- 
favourably disposed  toward  the  founder  of  the 
institution,  put  at  the  head  of  it  1. 1.  Betzkoy,  who  en- 
joyed her  personal  favour  and  bore  the  reputation  at 
the  court,  of  a  great  educator.  Unfortunately,  Betz- 
koy proved  in  reality  little  more  than  a  naive  and 
rather  stubborn  dilettante,  and  the  harm  he  did  to  the 
education  of  Russian  youth  was  in  no  wise  diminished 
by  those  good  intentions,  with  which,  a  true  son  of  his 
"idealistic"  age,  he  overflowed.  The  effects  of  Betz- 
koy's  incompetence  were  strongly  felt  in  the  Academy. 
In  his  eagerness  to  form  fine  characters,  the  new  director 
lost  sight  of  the  main  purpose  of  the  institution  as  an 
art  school.  Something  in  the  nature  of  a  branch  of  the 
Foundling  Hospital  was  established  at  the  Academy. 
Here  were  presently  accepted  young  children,  who,  in 
most  cases,  had  no  time  to  show  any  aptitude  for  art. 
As  for  the  artistic  part  of  the  instruction,  it  was  defini- 
tively subordinated  to  the  aesthetic  formalism,  which 

55 


Jlie  Russian  School  of  Painting 

has  retained  the  name  of  academic  classicism.  For 
many  reasons,  among  which  the  discovery  of  Pompeii 
played  no  small  part,  the  West  at  that  time  was  pass- 
ing through  something  like  a  second  classical  Renais- 
sance. The  characteristic  culture  of  the  eighteenth 
century — that  strange,  morbid,  and  yet  charming  blos- 
som— was  rapidly  withering.  The  chilling  approach 
of  the  nineteenth  century  was  felt  in  the  air.  Roman 
republican  ideas  were  pressing  the  monarchical  prin- 
ciple hard;  the  gay,  carefree  rococo  was  pining  away, 
giving  place  to  the  stern  Vitruvius,  and  the  graceful 
fashions  of  Watteau  and  DeTroy  were  being  gradually 
replaced  by  "antique"  tunics,  while  Lessing,  Winkel- 
mann,  Mengs  and  David  were  expounding  the  aesthet- 
ics of  the  new  age. 

Academies  had  existed  ever  since  the  end  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  since  the  times  of  Carracci.  But  origi- 
nally Academies  were  a  wholly  sane  and  desirable  re- 
action against  the  dissolute  mannerism  of  the  late 
Renaissance.  Gradually  they  became  something  in 
the  nature  of  official  departments  of  art.  Here  sat  art- 
ists, well  balanced,  always  ready  to  carry  out,  in  strict 
conformity  with  the  rules  of  the  school,  the  bidding  of 
the  authorities,  that  is  of  the  monarch  and  his  court. 
Yet,  for  a  long  time  the  mediaeval  guild  principle  did 
not  cease  to  guide  these  institutions.    It  was  the  best 

56 


Classicism 

and  most  skilful  masters  who  gathered  here.  They  ac- 
cepted obediently  the  various  changes  in  taste  and 
fashion,  but  conferred  upon  everything  a  certain  re- 
serve and  prudence.  Esthetics,  in  the  sense  of  a  theory 
of  the  beautiful,  scarcely  influenced  them,  as  the  plastic 
arts  at  that  time  had  not  yet  become  a  subject  of  aes- 
thetic theorising.  It  is  natural  that  the  Academies 
could  not  have  a  decisive  influence  on  the  course  of  aes- 
thetic development.  They  exerted  a  salutary  influ- 
ence on  art  technique,  for  the  educational  institutions, 
supervised  and  directed  by  the  academicians,  were 
really  excellent  art  schools. 

The  second  half  of  the  eighteenth  century  presents 
a  different  spectacle.  For  some  time  the  Academies 
struggle  against  the  new  classical  movement,  but,  later 
on,  they  accept  it  in  toto  and  for  a  period  of  a  hundred 
years  become  its  main  bulwark.  The  terms  Academy 
and  Classicism  become  synonymous.  At  the  same  time 
the  centre  of  artistic  taste  and  artistic  opinion  shifts 
from  the  court  to  the  Academies.  Rigid  and  elaborate 
artistic  doctrines  make  their  appearance,  and  find  the 
firmest  support  in  the  Academies.  The  former  court 
departments  became  something  like  oligarchical  "par- 
liaments," whose  verdicts  in  the  sphere  of  artistic  prob- 
lems are  not  subject  to  appeal. — Moreover,  the  artistic 
education,  which  remained  in  their  hands,  is  entirely 

57 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

dominated  by  the  new  state  of  affairs.  What  is  now 
taught  in  the  art  schools  is  not  how  to  surmount  tech- 
nical difficulties,  but  what  to  consider  beautiful  and 
therefore  what  subjects  to  treat.  "Academic"  educa- 
tion becomes  permeated  with  the  classical  spirit. 

Much  has  been  said  about  this  academical  classicism. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  the  so-called  "David"  theories 
are  responsible  for  a  great  deal  of  formalism  and  cold- 
ness, yet  it  would  hardly  be  just  to  allow  oneself  to  be 
blinded  by  hate  of  formal  aesthetics  to  such  a  degree  as 
to  overlook  its  good  sides.  Classicism  killed  graceful- 
ness and  life,  but  together  with  these  it  also  killed  man- 
nerism. To  its  credit  is  that  thorough  artistic  educa- 
tion, on  which  grew  up  Ingres,  and  on  which  Degas,  In- 
gres' greatest  admirer,  was  brought  up.  In  Russia,  too, 
classicism  had  rather  beneficent  effects.  We  cannot  ex- 
pect excellent  results  of  a  system  which  undertook  to 
form  artists  out  of  men,  many  of  whom  were  completely 
lacking  in  natural  endowments.  At  any  rate,  this  rigid 
education  gave  several  masters  an  opportunity  to  be- 
come prominent.  Although  devoid  of  temperament, 
they  accumulated  at  the  Academy  a  great  deal  of  well- 
digested  knowledge,  which  they  were  able  to  transmit 
to  their  more  gifted  pupils. 

Losenko  was  the  first  of  these  art  teachers,  who  inau- 
gurated and  cultivated  strict  artistic  schooling  in  Rus- 

58 


Classicism 

sia.  He  endeavoured  to  turn  the  artistic  education 
from  technical  practice  to  aesthetic  theory.  This  tend- 
ency becomes  more  intelligible,  if  we  take  into  consid- 
eration the  fact  that  Losenko  studied  in  Paris  under 
Vien,  the  forerunner  and  teacher  of  David.  He  even 
published  an  atlas  of  the  proportions  of  the  ideal  hu- 
man figure.  Losenko's  successors  in  the  field  of  art 
education  vi^ere  Akimov,  Ugryumov,  Shebuyev,  Ye- 
gorov  and  Audrey  Ivanov. 

Early  in  the  nineteenth  century  this  group  of  artists 
were  looked  upon  as  "the  Russian  School  of  Painting," 
and  there  were  even  patriotic  enthusiasts  who  believed 
they  would  raise  Russia  above  the  West.  But  this  was 
a  naive  mistake.  In  reality,  these  masters  were  little 
more  than  imitators  of  no  individuality.  Their  excel- 
lent schooling,  unsupported  by  any  considerable  nat- 
ural gift,  was  of  little  use  for  their  own  artistic  efforts. 
This  schooling,  however,  enabled  them  to  furnish  their 
pupils — Kiprensky,  Varnek,  P.  Sokolov,  Bryullov,  and 
partly  Bruni — with  that  thorough  preparation  to  which 
the  latter  owe  the  prominent  places  that  they  will  for- 
ever hold  in  the  history  of  Russian  art. 

The  art  of  Akimov  (1754-1814)  was  at  one  time 
praised  unreservedly:  "one  finger  painted  by  him,"  it 
was  said,  "is  worth  an  entire  picture  of  another 
painter."    But,  of  course,  these  ecstasies  are  to  be  ex- 

59 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

plained  only  by  the  academic  aesthetics  of  the  time. 
The  contemporaries,  treated  truly  great  masters,  such 
as  Levitzky  and  Borovikovsky,  with  little  more  than 
contempt,  because  their  pictures  reproduced — with  con- 
summate perfection — nothing  but  nature.  On  the  con- 
trary, people  swooned  before  "Akimov's  finger,"  be- 
cause it  was  presented  according  to  all  the  rules  and 
regulations  of  the  "noble  style."  Akimov,  however, 
still  belongs  to  the  eighteenth  century.  Just  like  his 
comrades  Kozlov,  Puchinov,  and  P.  I.  Sokolov,  who 
died  prematurely,  he  did  not  completely  side  with  the 
intolerant  fanatics  of  classicism.  He  is  in  quest  of 
graceful  lines  and  gorgeous  drapery,  and  does  not  dis- 
dain "opera-house"  effects,  such  as  curved  helmets  and 
baroco  plumages.  This  artist,  who  at  the  age  of  ten 
entered  the  Academy  to  escape  utter  poverty,  was  too 
much  steeped  in  the  spirit  of  the  epigones  of  rococo,  the 
traces  of  which  are  also  discoverable  in  the  first  two 
Russian  "historical"  painters:  Kozlov  and  Losenko  (it 
is  enough  to  remember  the  "St.  Peter"  of  the  first  in  the 
Museum  of  Alexander  III,  and  the  "Hector  and  Andro- 
maque"  of  the  second  in  the  Academy).  During  his 
travel  abroad,  Akimov  took  a  long  time  before  reaching 
Rome,  and  at  Bologna,  where  he  was  ordered  to  stay, 
he  could  not  improve  his  style  by  the  study  of  the  man- 
neristic  masters  of  the  seventeenth  century.     On  his 

60 


Classicism 

return  from  foreign  parts,  this  son  of  a  simple  composer 
received,  owing  to  his  achievements  and  genteel  man- 
ners, the  highest  honours  an  artist  could  possibly  be 
granted  at  that  time.  He  held  the  office  of  director  of 
the  Tapestry  Manufactory,  gave  lessons  to  the  sons  of 
the  crown-prince,  and  finally,  in  1796,  was  elected  di- 
rector of  the  Academy. 

"Akimov  was  an  intelligent  artist,"  says  Ugryumov's 
biographer,  in  1824,  "but  his  manner  of  execution  could 
not  be  instructive  for  the  young  artists.  A  man  had  to 
come  who  would  call  their  attention  to  true  beauty,  and 
who,  in  his  own  creations,  would  set  an  example  worthy 
of  imitation."  Such  an  example  for  the  young  ap- 
peared in  the  person  of  Ugryumov,  the  teacher  of 
Yegorov  and  Shebuyev,  who  in  their  turn  taught  Kip- 
rensky  and  Bryullov.  Ugryumov  was,  indeed,  a  more 
definite  representative  of  the  new  tendencies.  Baroco 
art  held  no  temptations  for  him.  He  devoted  himself 
wholly  to  the  imitation  of  the  ancient  works  of  art,  the 
Farnese  Hercules  being  his  chief  favourite.  Few  of 
his  works  have  reached  us,  but  his  best  painting — "Yan 
Usmovich" — in  the  Academy  of  Art — and  several 
drawings  of  his  are  characteristic  examples  of  his  striv- 
ing to  approach  the  ancients  in  power  and  grandeur. 
It  seems,  however,  that  Ugryumov  was  no  soulless, 
routine     academicist.    Those     of    his    portraits — he 

6i 


The  Russian  School  of  PainWig 

painted  quite  a  few  of  them — which  have  come  down 
to  us  are  rather  characteristic.  For  the  Mikhailovo 
Castle  he  executed  two  gigantic  compositions  from  Rus- 
sian history:  "The  Capture  of  Kazan,"  and  "The  Cor- 
onation of  Mikhail  Fedorovich."  Both  of  them  are 
completely  devoid  of  historical  truth,  nor  are  they  dis- 
tinguished by  any  artistic  gracefulness.  If  they  are  re- 
markable at  all,  it  is  rather  as  monuments  of  an  interest 
in  the  Russian  past,  inaugurated  before  the  advent  of 
Karamzin.^  Moreover,  these  colossal  canvases  exe- 
cuted with  perfect  scholastic  orderliness,  testify  to  the 
progress  made  by  the  academic  school  of  painting  in 
Russia. 

Two  of  Ugryumov's  pupils  were  the  true  fathers  in 
Russia  of  a  strict  classicism,  in  the  manner  of  David, 
Carstens,  and  Camucini.    These  were  Yegorov  (1776- 

1851),  who  won  the  appellation  of  "the  Russian  Ra- 
phael," and  Shebuyev  (1777-1855),  who  was  known 
among  his  contemporaries  as  "the  Russian  Poussin." 
Yet,  even  these  masters,  when  compared  with  their 
western  models,  seem  little  more  than  poor  imitators. 
What  in  David  and  his  pupils  was  conviction  and  ec- 
stasy, was  replaced,  in  Yegorov  and  Shebuyev,  by  scho- 

^  Karamzin,  Nikolay  Mikhaylovich  (1765-1826),  the  author  of  the 
monumental  "History  of  the  Russian  State,"  was  the  first  to  arouse  a 
popular  interest  in  the  Russian  past.     (Translator's  note.) 

62 


Classicism 

lastic  diligence  and  a  blind  faith  in  the  incontroverti- 
bility  of  the  foreign  aesthetic  doctrine.  All  the  stranger 
then,  appears  to  us  the  delight  of  their  contemporaries 
in  this  impersonal  art.  The  enthusiasts  of  our  national 
painting  went  as  far  as  to  prefer  the  "austerity"  of 
Yegorov  and  Shebuyev  to  the  "mannerism"  of  the 
French  and  Italian  schools.  In  reality,  these  Russian 
masters  were  even  colder,  even  more  devoid  of  life  than 
their  models,  but  they  were  far  from  having  the  colossal 
knowledge  of  David,  Guerin,  Girodet,  Ingres,  and  even 
of  the  Italians  Camucini,  Pinelli  and  others.  She- 
buyev's  most  refined  compositions  betray  the  Russian 
model  and  somehow  reveal  a  distant  connection  with 
the  feeble  icon  painters  of  the  seventeenth  and  eight- 
eenth centuries.  As  to  Yegorov,  there  is  in  him  more 
scholastic  drill  than  ardour:  all  his  works  are  rather 
school-room  compositions  than  the  result  of  free,  signifi- 
cant artistic  efforts. 

These  two  masters  are  cold,  common-place,  and,  to  a 
considerable  degree,  impotent.  Yet,  despite  their  fail- 
ings, it  cannot  be  said  that  there  is  nothing  agreeable  in 
their  works.  Of  course,  their  most  celebrated  produc- 
tions are  their  worst.  Such  are :  Yegorov's  icons,  his 
"Flagellation  of  Our  Saviour,"  and  Shebuyev's  famous, 
but  rather  ineffective  plafond  in  the  Tzarskoye  Selo 
Church.    But  their  drawings,  sketches  and  studies  are 

63 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

quite  pleasant.  There  lingers  on  them  the  reflection  of 
the  never-fading  beauty  of  classical  antiquity  and  the 
Renaissance,  and  although  the  reflection  is  very  faint 
and  misty,  it  has  retained,  to  a  certain  degree,  its  en- 
chantment. Whoever  is  able  to  delight  in  a  "beauti- 
ful" composition,  whoever  can  be  moved  by  the  unas- 
suming beauty  of  interweaving  rounded  lines,  will  find 
pleasure — a  somewhat  unsavoury  pleasure,  perhaps — 
in  the  innumerable  drawings  of  the  two  masters,  which 
are  treasured  in  our  museums  and  private  collections. 
Along  with  Shebuyev  and  Yegorov  must  be  men- 
tioned Alexander  Ivanov's  father — the  excellent 
draughtsman  Audrey  Ivanov  (1775-1848).  He  was 
not  untouched  by  the  influence  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. The  symbolical  figure  of  "Glory"  in  his  picture, 
"The  Duel  of  Mstislav  and  Rededya"  looks  as  if  it  had 
just  left  one  of  Rastrelli's  plafonds.  His  Pechenyeg, 
so  properly  stretched  at  the  feet  of  the  "youthful  citi- 
zen of  Kiev,"  petrified  in  the  race,  is  doubtlessly  akin 
to  the  Marses  of  the  baroco  mythology.  But  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  human  body  was,  perhaps,  greater  than  that 
of  his  more  famous  colleagues,  especially  of  Shebuyev. 
The  figures  of  the  naked  youths  in  the  above-mentioned 
picture  as  well  as  the  stroke,  firm,  and  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent agreeable  in  its  sureness  and  smoothness,  reveal  in 
the  master  a  great  fund  of  technical  knowledge.    But 

64 


Classicism 

this  found  almost  no  application,  partly  because  Ivanov 
was  too  much  absorbed  by  his  duties  at  the  Academy 
and  by  casual  icon  orders — which  plagued  the  life  out 
of  most  of  our  artists, — and  partly  because,  his  knowl- 
edge remained  mere  knowledge  and  found  no  response 
in  the  inner  world  of  the  artist,  who  remained,  to  his 
dying  hour,  nothing  but  an  old-fashioned  bureaucrat. 
The  seeds  of  the  wonderful  classical  beauty  fell  in  Rus- 
sia, in  most  cases,  on  hard,  sterile  soil  of  provincial 
shallow-mindedness. 

Count  T.  P.  Tolstoy  (1783-1873)  and  Ivan  Ivanov 
(1779-1848)  form  an  exception.  The  first,  a  highly 
educated  and  kindly  man,  illustrated  Bogddno- 
vitch's  tale,  "The  Darling,"  with  an  understanding  of 
feminine  beauty  and  a  delicate  sense  of  antiquity, 
which  reminds  one  of  Prudhon.  The  second,  distin- 
guished by  neither  great  talent  nor  vivid  imagination, 
retains  a  place  of  honour  in  the  history  of  Russian  paint- 
ing owing  to  his  vignettes,  delicate,  exquisite,  and, 
sometimes,  witty.  True  it  is  that  four  of  our  best  art- 
ists: Kiprensky,  Bryullov,  Bruni,  and  Ivanov — were 
alumni  of  the  Academy  and  ardent  followers  of  the  doc- 
trines they  had  been  taught.  But,  at  the  same  time 
their  great  native  gifts  made  them,  against  their  own 
will  and  consciousness,  the  most  decided  enemies  of  the 
Academy.    Consequently,  the  discussion  of  their  artis- 

65 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

tic  efforts  and  achievements  belongs  to  another  division 
of  this  study,  devoted,  not  to  the  Russian  Academicism, 
but  to  the  sparks  of  Romanticism  which  flashed  in  their 
art,  despite  the  connection  of  these  masters  with  the 
Academy. 

In  addition  to  Ugryumov,  Shebuyev,  and  Yegorov, 
the  Academy  sent  out  several  other  artists,  absolutely 
faithful  to  its  spirit.  The  paintings  of  these  masters : 
Rodchev,  Sukhikh,  Bezsonov,  Kryukov,  Volkov,  have 
remained  on  the  walls  in  the  Academic  Museum.  The 
organisers  of  the  Museum  of  Alexandre  III  could  not 
persuade  themselves  to  transport  this  collection  of  de- 
cent, but  really  dull  school-room  exercises,  to  the  treas- 
ury of  the  national  art. 


66 


CHAPTER  III 

ROMANTICISM 

IT  is  customary  to  apply  the  somewhat  vague  and 
nebulous  term  Romanticism  to  the  singular  efflo- 
rescence of  European  thought  which  occurred  in 
the  first  half  of  the  nineteenth  century.  The  materi- 
alistic philosophy  of  the  eighteenth  century  was  super- 
seded by  an  enthusiasm  for  mysticism,  poetry,  and  re- 
ligion ;  the  rigid  ideals  of  neo-classical  art  gave  way  to 
a  thirst  for  uncouth  sincerity,  for  "beautiful  ugliness" ; 
the  cult  of  the  line  was  supplanted  by  the  unrestrained 
worship  of  colour.  In  literature,  Schiller,  Hoffmann, 
Byron,  Shelley,  Walter  Scott,  Victor  Hugo,  Musset, 
Th.  Gautier  eclipsed  the  glory  of  Voltaire,  Rousseau 
and  Diderot;  in  music,  Beethoven,  Schubert  and  Weber 
overshadowed  the  austerely  classical  Gliick,  and  the 
fascinating  Haydn  and  Mozart;  in  painting,  Gericault, 
Delacroix,  Decamp,  and  the  Nazarenes  diverted  the 
universal  attention  from  infinite  repetitions  of  the  pat- 
terns of  classical  beauty. 

In  Russia,  the  Romantic  movement  found  an  unex- 
pectedly loud  echo,  but  this  was  confined  almost  com- 

67 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

pletely  to  literature.  Young  Russian  literature — it 
made  its  appearance  under  Elizabeth — presently  found 
itself  represented  by  men  who  could  compare  favour- 
ably with  the  greatest  European  talents.  Russian  let- 
ters at  one  proud,  easy  sweep  soared  up  to  the  highest 
summit  of  Western  culture,  but  neither  Russian  life  as 
a  whole  nor  particularly  Russian  art,  was  able  to  keep 
pace  with  literature.  The  fabulous  precocity  of  Rus- 
sian literature  can  be  explained  by  the  fact  that  during 
the  long  reign  of  Catherine  II  the  higher  class  of  society 
achieved  a  remarkable  degree  of  refinement  and  culture. 
With  the  exception  of  Krylov  and  Koltzov,  that  period 
did  not  produce  any  great  literary  talents  or  call  forth 
any  valuable  creative  efforts  outside  of  the  aristocracy, 
or  the  nobility,  in  general.  But,  while  the  ranks  of  the 
writers  were  filled  from  the  higher  classes,  Russian  art- 
ists, on  the  contrary,  were  recruited  from  the  middle  and 
lower  classes,  which  at  that  time  possessed  very  little 
culture.  Small  wonder  that  the  artist  could  not  come 
up  to  the  level  of  such  profound  and  mighty  representa- 
tives of  Russian  literature  as  were  Pushkin,  Gogol, 
Zhukovsky,  Lermontov  and  the  pleiad  of  the  minor 
poets,  known  as  the  "Pushkin  Group." 

The  origin  of  our  best  artists  was  lowly:  Kiprensky 
and  Tropinin  were  serfs,  Varnek's  father  was  a  cab- 
inet-maker, Alexander  Ivanov  was  the  son  of  a  foun- 

68 


Romanticism 

dling,  etc.  This  fact  laid  its  seal  on  their  entire  life, 
and  its  effect  could  not  be  removed  by  either  the  Acad- 
emy, or  the  French  language,  dancing  lessons,  and  all 
the  drilling  and  schooling  they  went  through. 

The  stream  of  outside  life  could  not  penetrate  be- 
yond the  high  hermetically  sealed  walls  of  the  Acad- 
emy. At  home, — the  stifling  atmosphere  of  middle- 
class  vulgarity  and  coarseness ;  at  school, — the  arid  and 
merciless  grind  of  a  rigid  education.  Men  moulded 
by-such  an  existence  could  not  walk  hand  in  hand  with 
the  inspired  creators  of  Russian  literature,  who  ab- 
sorbed both  the  exquisite  culture  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury and  the  passionate  striving  for  spiritual  regenera- 
tion which  seized  aching  humanity  after  the  French 
Revolution.  Only  those  among  the  alumni  of  the 
Academy  who,  owing  to  their  foreign  origin,  possessed 
a  culture  superior  to  that  of  their  Russian  comrades, 
created  something  beautiful  and  daring.  Such  was 
the  case  of  Bruni  and  Bryullov.  As  for  Alexander 
Ivanov,  the  greatest  of  this  generation  of  gifted  art- 
ists, he  succeeded  in  freeing  himself  from  the  influ- 
ence of  his  surroundings  only  after  many  years  spent 
abroad,  when  it  was  already  too  late,  on  the  very  eve 
of  his  death. 

And  yet,  despite  its  secondary  position  as  compared 
to  literature,  Russian  painting,  in  the  first  half  of  the 

69 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

nineteenth  century,  went  through  a  period  of  efflores- 
cence, which  has  not,  since,  repeated  itself.  Despite 
the  trammels  of  the  Academy,  the  lack  of  culture 
among  the  artists,  and  their  humble  position  in  society, 
despite  the  vagueness  of  their  aspirations  and  the  eter- 
nal compromise  between  the  impulses  of  the  mind 
divided  between  the  general  movement  and  the  scho- 
lastic precepts, — despite  all  this,  there  rests  on  these 
Russian  artists  the  reflection  of  Romanticism,  and  all_ 
of  them,  unconscious,  weak,  and  bewildered,  as  they 
often  were,  are  nevertheless  true  children  of  their  time. 
The  series  of  these  masters  of  the  Romantic  period 
begins  with  Kiprensky,  who,  despite  his  serf  origin,  is 
in  artistic  temperament  one  of  the  most  truly  aristo- 
cratic of  Russian  artists.  Of  course,  Kiprensky's  per- 
sonality is  not  so  clear,  pronounced,  and  significant  as 
those  of  some  French  masters,  his  contemporaries  and 
brothers  in  spirit.  It  is  nevertheless  true  that  Kipren- 
sky was  drawn  irresistibly  to  what  it  is  customary  to 
call  Romanticism, — at  least,  to  some  of  its  character- 
istic aspects.  Neither  the  Academy  nor  our  bureau- 
cratic society,  indifferent  to  problems  of  art,  was  able 
to  check  this  impulse.  Regardless  of  the  example  of 
Ugryumov,  Yegorov  and  Shebuyev,  Kiprensky  took  a 
greater  interest  in  the  old  colourists,  than  in  the  cold, 
white  plaster-of-Paris  casts.    Colour  was  his  main  con- 

70 


Romanticism 

cern;  he  preferred  it  to  drawing.  Yet,  education  is 
second  nature.  The  Academy  inoculated  him  not  only 
with  a  practical  knowledge  of  drawing,  but  also  with 
a  theoretical  cult  of  it.  This  combination  of  a  natural 
inclination  for  colour  with  a  thorough  scholastic  train- 
ing could  have  produced  the  most  felicitous  result, — 
that  is,  a  truly  great  master,  had  only  Kiprensky  known 
toward  what  aim  to  direct  his  powers. 

His  misfortune  consisted  in  that,  though  a  possessor 
of  great  knowledge,  he  did  not  know  what  to  apply  it 
to.  That  is  why  his  portraits  are  his  best  achievement, 
the  most  inspired  and  original  part  of  his  work.  Here 
the  subject-matter  is  supplied  by  nature,  yet,  strange  as 
it  may  appear,  he  is  freer  in  his  portraits  than  in  his 
"free"  compositions,  which  his  academic  education 
taught  him  to  approach  with  a  stock  of  superannuated, 
dead  ideas  and  patterns.  Naturally,  his  best  portraits 
are  the  portraits  of  himself,  where  his  clients'  demands 
were  not  in  his  way  and  where  he  could  give  free  rein 
to  his  colouristic  impulses.  There  exists  a  great  num- 
ber of  these  self-portraits,  and  none  of  them  resembles 
the  other, — a  manifest  proof  that  Kiprensky,  like  Rem- 
brandt, was  interested  not  so  much  in  resemblance  as 
in  colour  effects.  The  most  curious  ones  are  the  two 
likenesses  in  the  collection  of  E.  G.  Schwarz,  which 
came  originally  from  the  collection  of  Tomilov,  the 

71 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

patron  and  friend  of  many  artists  of  the  early  nine- 
teenth century.  A  gloomy,  greenish  tone,  glaring  light 
with  deep  shadows,  which  lend  Kiprensky's  good-na- 
tured face  an  enigmatic  and  weird  air,  mellow  colours 
laid  on  thickly,  somewhat  slipshod  drawing, — all  this 
betrays  the  fact  that  the  artist  was  not  greatly  moved 
by  the  lucidity  and  transparence  preached  by  Winkel- 
mann. 

In  other  portraits  Kiprensky  is  more  sober,  probably 
in  order  to  please  his  clients,  yet  he  is  ever  overflowing 
with  life  and  passion.  With  the  exception  of  his  last 
works,  Kiprensky's  canvases  are  never  dull.  In  the 
portraits  of  Denis  Davydov  and  in  his  incomparable 
numerous  drawings  of  the  heroes  of  the  Fatherland 
War  (with  Napoleon,  1812)  there  lives  a  vivid  reflec- 
tion of  that  turbulent  and  beautiful  epoch.  In  his  por- 
traits of  ladies  Kiprensky  rendered  the  somewhat  stud- 
ied sweetness  and  the  poetic  delicacy  of  the  fair  readers 
of  Karamzin  ^  and  Mrs.  Radcliffe.  Even  his  portraits 
of  venerable  and  heavy  statesmen  arrayed  in  stern  sur- 
touts  and  propped  with  huge  frills,  owe  to  a  magnificent 
combination  of  colour  tones  a  certain  agreeable  softness 
and  a  great  artistic  value.  Unfortunately,  Kiprensky's 
career  was  just  the  reverse  of  that  of  similarly  gifted 

^  Karamzin  (see  note  to  p.  62)  was  the  author  of  tales,  written  in  the 
sentimental  manner  which  was  fashionable  at  that  time  in  Germany  and 
in  England.     (Translator's  note.) 

72 


Romanticism 

Western  masters.  He  began  with  bold  and  vital  works, 
but  little  by  little  he  grew  stiff  and  lifeless.  This 
change  was  undoubtedly  furthered  by  his  life  in  Rome, 
which  he  visited  twice,  in  1816  and  in  1826,  and  where 
he  died  in  1836.  In  spite  of  his  passionate  tempera- 
ment and  his  astonishing  love  of  adventure,  in  spite  of 
his  fantastic  romance,  which  resulted  in  his  marriage 
with  his  own  adopted  daughter,  Kiprensky  was  trans- 
formed, in  Rome,  into  a  pedantic,  at  times  even  a  com- 
monplace, worker.  In  the  very  heyday  of  Romanticism 
Rome  was  still  the  centre  of  classical  theories  which 
had  already  served  their  time  in  other  countries.  In 
the  years  which  saw  the  creation  of  Delacroix's  "Dante 
and  Virgil,"  Rome  still  believed  in  the  exclusive  worth 
of  the  classics  and  of  the  rigid  line;  and,  of  course,  the 
alumnus  of  the  Petrograd  Academy,  the  son  of  the 
house-steward  Adam  Schwalbe,^  was  not  the  man  to  set 
at  naught  this  doctrine.  On  the  contrary,  it  took  hold 
of  him,  made  him  seek  "more  dignified  subjects"  than 
portraits,  and  bade  him  ignore  "frivolous  colour." 

Together  with  Kiprensky  there  must  be  mentioned 
the  Pole,  Orlovsky  (1777-1832),  who  came  to  Petro- 
grad early  in  the  nineteenth  century,  after  a  whole 
series  of  adventures,  such  as  a  duel,  an  escape  with  a 

^  Kiprensky  was  the  natural  son  of  A.  S.  Dyakonov.  Officially  he  be- 
longed to  the  family  of  Adam  Schwalbe,  Dyakonov's  serf;  his  last  name 
is  derived  from  the  village  where  he  was  baptized.     (Translator's  note.) 

73 


Tlie  Russian  School  of  Pamting 

band  of  jugglers,  service  in  the  army  in  the  capacity 
of  a  private,  and  the  like.  In  Petrograd  he  found 
numerous  patrons  and  admirers.  A  pupil  of  Norblin 
de  la  Gourdine, — who  had  taken  up  his  residence  in 
Warsaw  and  was  one  of  the  best  French  draughtsmen 
of  the  eighteenth  century, — Orlovsky,  nevertheless, 
completely  broke  off  with  Fragonard's  exquisite  style. 
He  gave  himself  up  to  caricatures  and  grotesque  de- 
vices, and  he  sketched  untiringly  everything  ugly  that 
fell  under  his  eye.  He  seemed  to  have  taken  as  his 
motto  the  words  ''he  beau  c'est  le  laid,''  long  before 
"Jeune-France"  inscribed  them  on  its  banner. 

Orlovsky  must  not  be  judged  from  his  pictures. 
Most  of  them  are  dull  studies  from  nature,  servile  imi- 
tations of  Potter  and  Wouwerman,  aimed  at  pleasing 
the  Russian  patrons,  who  were  desirous  of  having  speci- 
mens of  the  work  of  our  "Russian  Wouwerman."  The 
real  Orlovsky  appears  only  in  his  drawings,  sketches, 
aquarelles,  gouaches  and  pastels.  It  is  true  that  he  is 
very  uneven  in  them.  There  are  among  them  dull, 
commonplace  landscapes,  coarse  and  hackneyed,  rough 
sketches,  and  so  on.  But  if  this  accidental  portion  of 
his  oeuvre  is  discarded,  there  remains  a  sufficient  num- 
ber of  works  in  which  Orlovsky  appears  with  all  the 
foibles  and  fads  of  a  flippant  adventurer,  whom  one 
would  take  either  for  a  quack  or  for  a  buffoon,  but  who, 

74 


Romanticism 

nevertheless,  was  really  a  poet  and  an  artist.  You  find 
among  his  works  caricatures  ridiculing  the  snobbishness 
of  Paul's  reign  and  jeering  at  the  faded  grandeur  of 
Catherine's  age;  you  find  also — long  before  Decamp — 
a  great  many  Oriental  types,  and  sundry  most  extrava- 
gant jokes  in  colour  and  line;  and  there  are,  in  addi- 
tion, portraits  of  the  heroes  of  the  Alexandrian  epic, 
scenes  from  Shakespeare's  tragedies,  sensational  land- 
scapes, sketches  of  furious  skirmishes  and  battles. 
Technically,  many  of  these  works  stand  comparison 
with  drawings  of  old  masters.  Perhaps  Orlovsky,  too, 
was  hindered  in  his  development  by  the  lack  of  under- 
standing on  the  part  of  the  society  which  surrounded 
him.  It  willingly  pardoned  him  his  entertaining 
pranks  on  paper,  but  it  would  never  think  of  admitting 
that  this  "fooling"  had  a  serious  artistic  value, — at  any 
rate,  a  far  higher  value  than  all  his  academic  exercises 
in  noble  style  and  all  his  timid  plagiarisms  of  Dutch 
"parlour"  pictures. 

It  is  customary  to  mention  in  connection  with  Ki- 
prensky's  name  that  of  Tropinin, — next  to  Kiprensky 
the  best  portraitist  of  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth 
century.  But  the  surname  of  the  "Russian  Greuse," 
bestowed  on  Tropinin,  indicates  with  sufficient  clear- 
ness that  the  two  masters  had  very  little  in  common. 
Tropinin  (1776-1857),  Count  Morkov's  serf,  was  set 

75 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

free  only  in  his  mature  age.  He  did  not  have  the  ad- 
vantage of  studying  abroad,  and  his  life  was  one  of 
ceaseless  misery  and  solitude,  as  he  shunned  his  own 
rather  coarse  circle  and  had  no  access  to  higher  society. 
The  pupil  of  the  most  uneven  of  Russian  painters, 
Shchukin,  he  borrowed  from  him  the  "pleasant"  col- 
ouring and  the  soft  stroke,  which  make  Tropinin  the 
heir  of  the  eighteenth  century  school.  But  Shchukin 
could  not  give  him  either  firmness  or  great  technical 
knowledge.  With  Greuse,  Tropinin  has  in  common 
the  choice  of  young,  sentimentally  pretty  heads,  and 
mellow,  quiet  colour  tones.  Unfortunately,  Tropinin 
later  on  developed  a  cold  and  smooth  manner,  which, 
evidently,  was  more  to  the  taste  of  his  chief  patrons, 
the  Moscow  merchants.  However,  with  regard  to  local 
colour  and  costume  his  portraits  of  the  thirties  and 
forties  are  of  considerable  value,  and  in  skill  of  charac- 
terisation many  of  them  are  quite  excellent.  In  his 
genre  portraits  Tropinin  is  very  much  like  Venetzianov. 
His  "flower-girls,"  "lace-makers,"  and  other  pictures 
from  the  life  of  "Moscow  grisettes"  breathe  a  candour, 
homely,  touching,  and  quite  distinctive.  This  is  the 
only  Russian  offshoot,  weak  and  short-lived,  of  that 
branch  of  Romanticism  which  in  France  produced 
Beranger  and  Murger. 
Kiprensky  and  Orlovsky  may  be  looked  upon  as  the 

76 


Romanticism 

forerunners  of  Russian  Romanticism  in  painting.  The 
role  of  the  Russian  Delacroix  was  played  by  an  artist 
of  the  next  generation,  Karl  BryuUov,  who,  while  still 
at  the  Academy,  manifested  a  natural  gift  amounting 
almost  to  genius,  and  who,  even  before  his  trip  abroad, 
attracted  the  attention  of  connoisseurs.  To  reckon 
Bryullov  among  the  romanticists  is,  to  be  sure,  to  force 
the  account.  The  precepts  of  the  academic  school  were 
too  deeply  rooted  in  him;  moreover,  by  nature  he  was 
rather  light-minded  and  external.  But  the  cycle  of 
subjects  he  treated,  his  own  life,  burned  up  in  a  sort  of 
bacchanalian  whirlwind,  his  yearning  for  high  ideas 
and  eternal  glories  amidst  the  welter  of  workaday 
prose,  his  intimacy  with  the  best  Russian  poets,  and, 
finally,  his  irresistible  gravitation  toward  wildest  col- 
our effects, — all  this  makes  us  consider  Bryullov  a  rep- 
resentative of  that  same  current  of  European  art,  which 
in  Western  painting  brought  forth  Gericault,  Dela- 
croix, Decamp,  and  many  others.  Unhappily,  Bryul- 
lov's  colossal  talent  could  not  fully  unfold  itself  in  the 
Russian  academy  or  society,  nor  could  his  life  in  Rome 
further  his  development.  His  excessive  arrogance, 
coupled  with  the  lack  of  thoughtful  penetration  in  his 
attitude  toward  his  surroundings  was  also  responsible 
for  his  failure  to  produce  an  art  of  all-human  signifi- 
cance and  eternal  beauty.    The  French  would  even 

77 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

consider  it  strange  that  we  rank  Bryullov  among  the 
romanticists.  They  would  rather  classify  him  with 
Ingres  or  even  Delaroche,  Cogniet  and  Gallet.  In  fact, 
our  "genius"  Bryullov  had  too  much  in  common  with 
these  masters  of  "Juste  Milieu,"  in  his  subject-matter, 
as  well  as  in  the  ensemble  of  his  far  too  external 
technique. 

Karl  Bryullov  (1799-1852),  the  son  of  a  skilled 
carver  of  Catherine's  times,  was  a  sickly  and  pitiable 
child,  but  very  early  he  manifested  a  remarkable  gift 
for  drawing.  His  father  developed  this  gift.  With- 
out taking  pity  on  the  boy,  he  forced  little  Karl  to  an 
unremitting  study  of  nature,  and  punished  him  severely 
for  laziness  or  blunders.  Small  wonder  that,  having 
passed  through  so  severe  a  preparatory  school,  Bryullov 
outstripped  his  schoolmates  at  the  Academy,  and 
caused  the  whole  Academic  Areopagus  to  go  into  trans- 
ports of  delight.  His  immediate  instructor,  Audrey 
Ivanov,  went  so  far  as  to  buy  with  his  own,  hard-earned 
money,  Bryullov's  painting  "Narcissus,"  an  allegorical 
work  of  a  purely  academic  character,  not  entirely  de- 
void of  eighteenth  century  affectation.  A  wholly 
mature  master,  but  not  a  fully  developed  personality, 
Bryullov  came  to  Italy,  on  a  scholarship  given  by  the 
recently  established  Society  for  the  Encouragement  of 

78 


Romanticism 

Artists.  The  narrow  aestheticism  which  the  Russian 
Academy  had  taught  him  and  which  combined  a  wor- 
ship of  the  ancient,  as  well  as  of  the  Bolognese  masters, 
— screened  from  him  living  reality.  He  did  not  go  be- 
yond what  the  models  of  Piazza  di  Spagna  gave  him. 
He  did  not  feel  the  sheer  stupidity  of  that  pink-col- 
oured, mawkish  idealisation,  pleasant  but  trite,  which 
made  Italian  life  appear  in  the  eyes  of  tourists  as 
nothing  but  an  illustration  to  their  favourite  operas, 
canzonettas,  and  romances.  His  compositions  from 
Italian  life  differ  little  from  the  album  and  keepsake 
platitudes,  supplied  in  hundreds  by  specialists  in  de- 
picting "happy  Italy."  But,  at  the  same  time,  ambi- 
tious plans  tormented  him,  and  he  tried  one  theme 
after  another,  in  his  eagerness  to  justify  the  expecta- 
tions founded  on  his  talents. 

Only  eight  years  after  his  arrival  in  Italy  Bryullov 
struck  a  subject  which  captivated  him  and  led  him  to 
the  creation  of  the  long-expected  chef-d'oeuvre.  The 
thought  of  painting  "The  Last  Day  of  Pompeii"  was 
suggested  to  him  by  his  visit  to  the  ruins  of  the  buried 
city  and  by  the  opera  of  the  now  forgotten  Paccini 
"II  ultimo  giorno  di  Pompeii,"  which  he  saw  at  Naples. 
In  three  years  Bryullov's  masterpiece  was  completed, 
and,  naturally  enough,  it  reflected  all  the  defects  of  his 

79 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

nature  as  well  as  of  his  education.  As  a  result  we  have 
a  work  rich  in  striking  effects,  full  of  studied  arrange- 
ment, but  superficial,  and  of  dubious  taste. 

Nevertheless,  "The  Last  Day  of  Pompeii"  cannot  be 
denied  a  considerable  permanent  artistic  value.  Its 
glaring,  frigid  colours,  its  smooth  stroke,  the  classical 
triteness  of  the  figures,  the  lack  of  movement  and  vi- 
tality in  the  composition, — all  this  is  unable  to  do  away 
with  the  general  impression,  which  is  one  of  great 
power,  although,  of  course,  it  is  the  power  not  of  Weber 
or  Schubert,  but  that  of  Meyerbeer  or  Halevi.  What- 
ever its  failings  may  be,  Bryullov's  "Pompeii"  is  a  good 
theatrical  spectacle,  a  grand  fracas^  executed  with  an 
astonishing  amount  of  technical  knowledge  and  with 
contagious  enthusiasm.  It  is  true  that  this  enthusiasm 
was  the  cold  passion  of  an  ambitious  man,  whose  aim  it 
was  to  astound  the  world.  True  fervour  and  genuine 
passion  are  alien  to  the  beauty  of  this  painting,  but 
with  the  public  at  large  this  very  peculiarity  of  "The 
Last  Day  of  Pompeii"  could  pass  for  a  merit, — for, 
genuine  passion,  the  cry  of  a  soul  deeply  wounded  or 
transported  with  delight,  is  least  agreeable  to  "reason- 
able" people.  The  best  portion  of  the  picture  is  the 
disorderly  group  of  fugitives  forcing  the  door  of  a  fall- 
ing house.  In  this  intertwined  knot  of  human  bodies, 
among  which  the  calm  face  of  the  artist  himself  stands 

80 


Romanticism 

out,  producing  a  striking  effect,  Bryullov  exhibited 
such  consummate  workmanship,  both  in  drawing  and 
in  painting,  as  it  would  perhaps  be  hard  to  find  in  the 
school  of  David  or  even  in  the  works  of  the  Bolognese 
masters.  How  true  an  artist  dwelled  in  this  painter  is 
attested  also  by  his  numerous  sketches  for  "The  Last 
Day  of  Pompeii,"  all  of  them  far  more  "Romantic" 
than  the  masterpiece  itself. 

It  is  as  to  a  triumph  that  Bryullov  came  back  to  Rus- 
sia, but,  naturally,  the  artist  who  in  his  best,  most  ar- 
dent years  had  not  freed  himself  from  a  compromise  be- 
tween the  antiquated  scholastic  precepts  and  his  own 
propensities,  was  not  able  now  to  create  something  more 
vital  and  beautiful.  "What  awaited  him  at  home  was 
least  favourable  for  the  development  of  the  artist:  he 
found  in  Russia  a  society,  at  heart  utterly  indifferent 
to  art;  then  along  came  honours,  official  orders,  and  an 
intoxicating  cult  formed  by  his  pupils  and  other  artists. 
Despite  his  many  failings,  Bryullov  at  once  occupied 
the  foremost  place  in  the  artistic  world,  and  this  kingly 
role  put  him  in  a  false  position,  raised  him  above  life, 
and  cut  off  his  connections  with  it.  Bryullov  made  an 
attempt  to  create  something  even  more  magnificent 
than  "The  Last  Day  of  Pompeii,"  but  his  "Siege  of 
Pskov,"  the  first  manifestation  of  the  ill-fated  nation- 
alistic and  official  current  in  Russian  art,  remained  an 

81 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

unfinished  and  absurd  cacophony  of  the  widest  colours. 
In  his  decorations  of  the  cupola  of  the  St.  Isaak  Cathe- 
dral, Petrograd,  he  attempted  to  reproduce  the  swing 
of  the  Bologna  masters,  but  he  produced  little  more 
than  a  trite  pastiche.  Unnerved  by  dissipation,  deeply 
disappointed  in  his  own  artistic  efforts,  he  fell  ill  and 
died  at  the  age  of  fifty-two,  in  Rome,  his  country  by 
adoption. 

The  best  of  Bryullov's  work  that  has  remained  is  in- 
contestably  his  portraits,  as  well  as  various,  unfortu- 
nately too  few,  studies  from  nature,  landscapes,  types, 
especially  those  sketched  during  his  travels  in  Minor 
Asia,  in  1835. 

His  portraits  undoubtedly  belong  to  the  best  created 
in  this  branch  of  painting  during  the  entire  nineteenth 
century.  Truth  to  say,  even  here  he  is  not  free  from 
his  habitual  defects,  such  as  somewhat  motley  colours 
and  a  composition  rich  in  importunately  sensational 
effects.  Nevertheless,  these  paintings  make  a  deep  im- 
pression, owing  to  their  vitality,  to  the  great  talent  they 
reveal,  and  to  the  technical  skill  with  which  they  are 
executed.  In  them,  Bryullov,  the  virtuoso,  appears  in 
all  his  splendour.  But,  strange  to  say,  this  artist,  ex- 
ternal, and  prone  to  histrionic  effects  as  he  was,  is  least 
successful  in  those  of  his  portraits  which  are  of  an 
official,  or,  in  general,  of  a  grand,  showy  character. 

82 


Romanticism 

They  are  too  superficial  and  banal.  On  the  contrary, 
his  intimate  portraits  are  of  the  highest  merit,  and 
among  them  the  best  are  his  aquarelles  and  pencil  draw- 
ings, in  which  he  rendered  the  features  of  his  numerous 
friends  with  the  delicacy  and  precision  of  an  Ingres 
and  often  with  a  great  charm  of  colouring. 

In  spite  of  Bryullov's  success,  which  was  unprece- 
dented and  has  never  since  repeated  itself,  he  did  not 
create  in  Russia  a  real  school.  Yet  his  ascendency 
manifested  itself  in  the  entire  academic  art;  moreover, 
it  has  outlived  academicism  by  many  years  and  has  dis- 
appeared only  in  our  own  generation.  Closest  to  him 
stood  Count  G.  G.  Gagarin  and  von-Moller — both  ama- 
teurs rather  than  professional  artists.  Gagarin  (i8lO- 
1895)  was  brought  up,  so  to  speak,  on  the  cult  of  Bryul- 
lov.  The  latter  frequented  the  house  of  his  father  in 
Rome,  and  the  young  count  had  the  opportunity  of 
watching,  day  by  day,  the  development  of  the  master 
and  of  assimilating  his  manner  as  it  unfolded  itself. 
Hence — the  striking  similarity  of  Gagarin's  manner  to 
that  of  Bryullov,  noticeable  more  in  drawing  than  in 
painting.  With  respect  to  colour  Gagarin  remained 
a  dilettante  given  to  glaring  effects.  His  drawings,  on 
the  contrary,  are  among  the  best  that  have  been  done  in 
the  Russian  school.  His  sketches  of  mountaineers,  his 
Caucasus  landscapes,  his  portraits,  all  kinds  of  odds 

83 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

and  ends — bear  the  imprint  of  high  craftsmanship,  of 
classical  simplicity,  and  of  a  great  power  of  character- 
isation. Equally  superb  are  his  water-colours,  which 
are  free  from  the  customary  defects  of  his  oil  paintings. 
Moreover,  even  his  canvases  illustrating  different  epi- 
sodes of  the  conquest  of  Caucasus  are,  in  spite  of  all 
their  technical  defects,  probably  the  best  war  paintings 
of  the  reign  of  Nicholas  I.  At  any  rate,  they  overflow 
with  ardent  nervosity  and  romantic  boldness,  and  have 
the  convincing  power  of  an  eye-witness's  tale. — In  the 
second  part  of  his  life  this  big  artist  became  enamoured 
of  Byzantinism  and  began  to  preach,  by  word  and  deed, 
this  beautiful,  but  incontestably  superannuated  art. 
It  was  then  that  Gagarin  turned  into  that  dull  icon- 
painter  and  insipid  architect,  who  is  sufficiently  known 
by  his  buildings  and  projects,  as  well  as  by  the  draw- 
ings which  found  hospitality  alongside  his  magnificent 
sketches  in  the  room  of  the  Museum  of  Alexander  III, 
which  is  devoted  to  the  ceuvre  of  the  master.  It  must 
not  be  forgotten,  however,  that  this  enthusiasm  for  By- 
zantinism was  a  logical  deduction  from  the  romantic 
cult  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  feeble  and  unsuccessful 
attempts  to  revive  the  Byzantine  and  Russian  styles 
are  nothing  but  a  local  version  of  the  "Gothic  Propa- 
ganda" of  the  West. 
Von-Moller   (1812-1875)   won  fame  by  a  painting 

84 


PORTRAIT    OF   A    LADY 


Orest  Kiprensky 


Romanticism 

which  Bryullov  in  his  best  days  could  have  signed.  It 
is  the  famous  "Kiss,"  hackneyed  by  innumerable  repro- 
ductions. This  work,  naive,  and  somewhat  motley 
from  the  standpoint  of  colour,  but  fairly  animated, 
breathing  the  youth  of  its  author,  belongs  to  that  Ital- 
ian, masked-ball  variety,  in  which  the  European  pub- 
lic took  so  much  pleasure  after  the  successes  of  L.  Rob- 
ert and  Riedel.  In  the  same  spirit  Moller  executed  a 
few  other  quasi-Italian  and  quasi-Romantic  themes. 
Then  came  a  change.  Carried  away  by  Overbeck's 
preaching,  he  devoted  himself  completely  to  his  vast 
composition:  "St.  John  Preaching  at  Patmos"  (1857). 
The  failure  of  this  picture  was  the  result  of  its  ugly 
pink-azure  colouring,  of  its  conventional  rounded  com- 
position, of  its  naive  contrasts  and  the  mawkish  expres- 
sion on  the  faces  of  the  personages. 

With  the  exception  of  Alexander  Ivanov,  who  stands 
somewhat  aloof  from  the  main  stream  of  Romanticism, 
this  movement  did  not  produce  in  Russia  a  single  great 
and  original  artist,  but  each  of  the  romantic  currents 
found  there  an  echo.  If  Bryullov  must  be  considered 
the  representative  of  the  historical  tendencies  of  Ro- 
manticism, Bruni  (1800-1875)  is  undoubtedly  the  echo 
of  the  Nazarenes.  Only,  however,  a  very  faint  echo. 
The  mystical  aspirations  of  the  Nazarenes  were  min- 
gled in  his  aesthetic  formula,  in  a  most  bizarre  manner, 

85 


Tlie  Russian  School  of  Painting 

with  academic  Classicism.  He  never  emerged  from  this 
compromise:  on  the  one  hand,  owing  to  his  education, 
he  was  too  strongly  impregnated  with  Classicism,  on 
the  other  hand,  his  inner  nature  did  not  allow  him 
either  to  break  off  with  the  Nazarene  art,  or  to  devote 
himself  to  it,  heart  and  soul.  His  very  life  was  not 
favourable  to  the  development  in  him  of  an  all-consum- 
ing passion  and  of  a  singleness  of  purpose :  it  flowed  too 
quietly.  Hardly  out  of  school,  he  became  famous 
through  his  magnificent  painting  "The  Death  of 
Camilla,"  which  he  completed  at  the  age  of  twenty-two, 
and  which  is  the  best  specimen  in  the  Museum  of  Alex- 
ander III  of  the  classical  Russian  school.  In  Rome,  he 
fell  in  with  sympathetic  and  restful  people,  among 
whom  he  continued  his  studies  quietly  and  methodi- 
cally. Bryullov's  fame  and  the  importunities  of  his 
admirers  led  him  to  essay  his  powers  in  the  field  of  "co- 
lossal" art.  Bruni's  "Brazen  Serpent"  came  seven 
years  after  "The  Last  Day  of  Pompeii."  Although  its 
success  was  not  so  great  as  that  of  Bryullov's  master- 
piece, it  was  met  with  universal,  though  calm  enthu- 
siasm. Henceforward,  the  names  of  Bryullov  and 
Bruni,  strangely  alliterative  as  they  are,  become  in- 
separable, and  are  always  uttered  in  the  same  breath. 
When  the  new  Petrograd  Museum,  now  the  Hermit- 
age, was  built,  these  two  giants  of  Russian  Painting 

86 


Romanticism 

found  place  on  one  wall.  When,  later  on,  they  were 
transported  to  the  Museum  of  Alexander  III,  they  were 
again  hung  together,  as  if  they  were  really  twins. 
After  the  creation  of  the  "Brazen  Serpent"  Brum's  life 
flowed  on  in  an  even  and  undisturbed  stream.  Strug- 
gle was  unknown  to  him.  He  was  overburdened  with 
orders  for  church  decorations;  in  addition,  his  small 
icons  and  images  were  immediately  bought  up  by  ama- 
teurs. The  rest  of  his  time  he  devoted  to  pedagogical 
activity  at  the  Academy,  where  he  held  the  office  of  rec- 
tor for  sixteen  years.  He  was  also  in  charge  of  the 
Mosaics  Department,  and  of  the  Hermitage. 

Bruni  is  looked  upon  in  Russia  as  a  mystic.  In  fact, 
this  intelligent  and  keen  man  was  not  averse  to  the  pro- 
fundities of  religious  thought  and  religious  poetry,  yet 
it  can  hardly  be  asserted  that  his  art  possessed  a  great 
depth.  Bruni  is,  above  all,  a  decorator,  a  great  master 
of  grouping,  colouring  and  painting,  but  all  these 
merits  of  his  are  purely  external.  On  the  contrary,  the 
types  he  created  are  mere  conventional  outlines,  his 
pathos  is  theatrical,  and  his  mystical  "visions"  show  too 
clearly  the  threads  they  are  sewn  with,  what  the  French 
call  ''truer  Of  course,  this  in  no  way  deprives  him 
of  the  high  place  he  occupies.  Let  us  remember  that 
Raphael's,  too,  was  an  external  talent.  In  the  mag- 
nificence of  his  well  sustained  and  nearly  flawless  work- 

87 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

manship,  Bruni  is  far  superior  to  the  uneven  and  often 
insipid  BryuUov;  but,  in  his  turn,  Bruni  is  second  to 
Bryullov  in  temperament.  Herein  lies  the  cause  of  the 
unpopularity  of  Bruni;  his  art  completely  satisfied  the 
official  demands  and  delighted  the  experts,  but  it  was 
not  given  to  it  to  impress  the  crowd, — a  quality  pos- 
sessed by  the  works  of  Bryullov  in  an  eminent  degree/ 
Bryullov's  prestige  was  so  great,  that  the  number  of 
his  pupils  was  simply  tremendous,  yet  there  were  no 
genuine  artists  among  them.  Tyranov  (1808-1859), 
known  by  a  charming,  intimate  picture,  made  the  lovers 
of  Bryullov's  conventional  manner  very  hopeful  by  his 
"Girl  with  a  Tabourine,"  a  worthy  pendant  to  Mol- 
ler's  "Kiss."  Kapkov  (1816-1854)  comes  near  to 
Bryullov  in  his  portraits,  but  he  remained  a  half-de- 
veloped, lifeless  artist.    Petrovsky, — Rayev,  a  good 

^  The  "Nazaritic"  movement  influenced  also  the  art  of  von-Moller, 
who  has  been  already  treated,  and  of  G.  von  Reutern  (1794-1865).  The 
latter  was  more  of  an  amateur  and  produced  a  very  limited  number  of 
paintings.  His  best  works  are  sketches, — of  extreme  delicacy  and  exe- 
cuted in  the  spirit  of  the  Dutch  primitives, — and  also  portraits,  character- 
istic and  pedantically  accurate.  His  painting,  "Abraham's  Sacrifice," 
in  the  Museum  of  Alexander  III,  is  very  popular  among  admirers  of 
scrupulous  accuracy  in  painting,  but  it  is  of  small  artistic  interest.  It  must 
be  admitted,  however,  that  the  angel  on  this  picture  would  be  a  credit  to 
any  one  of  Domlnichino's  canvases. — It  will  be  proper  to  mention  here 
that  the  Nazaritic  movement  was  first  made  known  in  Russia  by  two  Ger- 
mans, who  settled  in  Petrograd  in  the  twenties.  These  were  the  two 
bosom-friends,  Hippius  and  Ignatius,  both  of  them — tender,  naive  ro- 
manticists without  talent.     (Author's  note.) 

88 


Romanticism 

landscape  painter,  who  turned,  for  no  reason  whatever, 
to  historical  painting, — Lapchenko, — Zavyalov,  and 
Shamshin,  Basin's  pupils,  hopelessly  dull  official 
painters,  who  did  not  escape  the  contagion  of  Bryul- 
lov's  sensational  effects, — all  these  do  not  add  any 
charm  to  this  current  of  Russian  painting.  Greater 
values  were  contributed  by  the  next  generation.  True 
followers  of  Bryullov  were :  Gay,  who  will  be  treated 
shortly, — Flavitzky  (1830-1866),  a  master  not  with- 
out temperament,  responsible  for  the  touching  "Princess 
Tarakanov,"  one  of  the  most  popular  works  of  the  en- 
tire Russian  school, — Plyeshanov  ( 1829-1882) ,  known 
chiefly  as  the  painter  of  "Ivan  the  Terrible  and  the 
Priest  Silvestre," — and  P.  P.  Chistyakov,  the  painter  of 
"Sophie,  the  daughter  of  Vitovt."  Finally,  Bryul- 
lov's  influence  can  be  traced  in  the  last  great  represen- 
tatives of  our  academic  art :  in  K.  Makovsky,  G.  Sem- 
iradsky,  Mikyeshin,  Polyenov  and  lacobi. 

The  foremost  among  these  masters  is  K.  Makovsky, 
incontestably  one  of  the  greatest  talents  of  the  Russian 
School  of  Painting.  Makovsky's  misfortune  lies  in  his 
age;  the  formative  period  of  his  artistic  personality  co- 
incided with  the  reign  of  what  may  be  termed  "the 
decadence  of  Romanticism,"  and  all  his  life  K.  Makov- 
sky remained  an  epigone  of  Romanticism,  In  spite  of 
his  temporary  infatuation  with  the  civic  propaganda  of 

89 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

the  sixties,  and  the  rare  concessions  he  made  to  the 
aesthetic  programme  of  the  "Wanderers,"  He  came 
too  late  to  join  the  "school,"  which  trained  Bryullov, 
and  it  is  as  a  half-schooled  genius  that  he  appears 
throughout  his  motley,  multiform  art. 

In  the  fifties  and  sixties,  when  all  of  "Jeune-France" 
and  "Jung  Deutschland"  had  turned  into  venerable 
professors,  the  romantic  currents  degenerated  into 
something  decrepit  and  senile.  The  narrow,  cold  ra- 
tionalism of  Wilhelm  von  Kaulbach  and  Jean  Flandrin 
replaced  the  ardent  ecstasies  of  the  Nazarenes ;  costume 
painting  of  the  type  produced  by  Piloty  and  Gerome 
flooded  historical  painting;  frivolous  and  mawkish 
fancy  took  the  place  of  Hoffmannesque  fantastic 
flights,  so  characteristic  of  the  twenties  and  the  thirties ; 
loose  drollery  supplanted  the  caustic  satire  on  which 
was  brought  up  the  great  school  of  political  caricatur- 
ists with  Daumier  at  its  head.  The  spirit  of  true  Ro- 
manticism continued  to  live,  just  as  it  lives  in  our  own  ■ 
times,  but  the  forms  of  its  manifestation  had  changed. 
In  a  certain  sense.  Millet,  all  the  Barbizon  painters, 
Bocklin,  the  English  Pre-Raphaelites,  our  own  Ivanov 
— were  romanticists,  but  in  their  own  times  they  were 
apparently  antagonists  of  Romanticism,  for  at  that 
time  it  is  such  genuine  decadents  as  Kaulbach,  Dela- 
roche  with  his  numerous  followers,  the  Diisseldorf  mas- 

90 


Romanticism 

ters,  and  the  "Belgians,"  who  considered  themselves, — 
with  the  complete  assent  of  the  public  at  large, — the 
true  heirs  of  the  Romantic  aesthetics.  The  genuinely 
great  art  of  the  West  did  not  reach  Petrograd.  Neither 
Millet,  nor  Bocklin,  nor  the  Pre-Raphaelites,  nor  our 
own  Ivanov  found  a  single  vivid  echo  in  Russia, — at 
any  rate,  not  a  single  true  follower.  But  this  senile 
pseudo-Romanticism  penetrated  into  all  the  pores  of 
the  culture  of  our  higher  classes,  together  with  the 
fashions  and  morals  of  the  Second  Empire.  Character- 
istic of  those  times  is  the  great  success  in  Russia  of  art- 
ists like  the  sugared  Chopin,  the  mawkish  Neff,  and, 
especially,  Zichy,  who  came  to  Russia  late  in  the  forties. 
The  latter,  a  highly  gifted  master  of  a  perfect  technique 
is  such  a  pronounced  representative  of  the  Romantic 
decadence  that  he  would  merit  to  be  treated  here  at 
some  length,  did  he  not  rank  himself  among  Western 
painters. 

It  is  in  this  atmosphere  that  K.  Makovsky  was 
brought  up,  and  its  reflection  lies  on  the  whole  of  his 
output.  His  colours  are  derived  from  the  palette  of 
Neff  and  Zichy,  his  themes  have  the  insipidity  peculiar 
to  all  "costume"  painters;  as  a  fantastic  artist  he  does 
not  go  beyond  the  sensuality  which  marks  all  the  salon 
art  which  flooded  the  art  market  in  the  middle  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  at  the  moment  of  the  triumph  of 

91 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

materialism.  In  addition,  K.  Makovsky,  we  repeat, 
came  too  late  to  find  a  school.  The  Academy,  once  a 
secluded  and  inexorably  rigorous  educational  institu- 
tion, but  now  a  free  art-school,  was  no  more  the  guard- 
ian of  drawing  and  of  strict  and  systematic  technique, 
as  in  the  days  of  Bryullov's  youth.  Masters  like  Ye- 
gorov  and  Shebuyev  had  disappeared.  Bryullov,  it  is 
true,  inaugurated  something  in  the  nature  of  a  revival 
at  the  Academy,  but  this  had  only  negative  results,  such 
as  a  neglect  of  drawing  and  a  pursuit  of  cheap  sensa- 
tional effect.  In  the  fifties,  the  Academy,  despite  the 
effort  of  the  council  headed  by  Bruni,  was  falling  into 
decay,  and  it  was  then  (in  1858)  that  K.  Makovsky 
entered  it. 

Makovsky's  vast  canvases  with  their  almost  indecent 
nymphs,  with  their  tasteless  conglomeration  of  theat- 
rical properties,  with  their  glaring  sugared  colours, 
with  their  uncertain  drawings — are  far  from  making  an 
agreeable  impression.  But  in  the  course  of  time  the 
attitude  toward  him  is  likely  to  change.  For  all  his 
defects,  Makovsky  stands  forth  on  the  dull,  grey  back- 
ground of  Russian  art,  a  vivid  figure,  an  artist  of  a  pas- 
sionate temperament,  and  one  who  was  able  to  infect 
other  people  with  his  enthusiasm.  The  patina  of  time 
will  not  shield  his  pictures  from  harm,  for  the  patina  of 
time  beautifies  only  that  which  is  beautiful  in  itself. 

92 


Romanticism 

At  any  rate,  Makovsky's  pictures  will  remain  a  monu- 
ment of  the  tendencies  of  a  definite  period  of  Russian 
culture,  and,  as  such,  they  will  retain  a  great,  though 
not  purely  artistic  interest.  Quite  apart  stand  several 
of  his  genre  pictures  with  subjects  taken  from  Russian 
reality.  These  are  the  monuments  of  his  temporary  ad- 
herence to  the  camp  of  the  "Wanderers.''  To  them  be- 
long "The  Show-booths  at  the  Palace  Square,"  a  vivid 
and  touching  illustration  of  the  old  Russian  carnival 
which  is  now  a  thing  of  the  past. 

Semiradsky  (1843-1902)  is,  in  comparison  with 
Makovsky,  a  greater  master.  In  some  respects  this 
artist  could  even  pass  for  an  innovator.  The  splendour 
of  his  colours,  a  correct  rendering  of  sun  effects,  a  beau- 
tiful, picturesque  technique  in  places, — all  this  was  a 
real  revelation  for  the  generation  of  Russian  artists  of 
the  sixties  and  seventies.  Unfortunately,  in  vitality 
of  talent  Semiradsky  was  inferior  to  Makovsky.  His 
compositions  on  antique  themes  are  little  more  than 
excellent  landscapes  and  "still-life's,"  among  which,  to 
meet  the  demands  of  historical  painting,  are  placed, 
for  no  apparent  reason  whatever,  lifeless  and  dull  fig- 
ures. Only  in  those  pictures  where  these  figures,  in 
comparison  with  the  landscape  and  the  accessories,  play 
a  subsidiary  part,  does  Semiradsky  retain  a  certain 
charm.    On  the  other  hand,  in  his  vast  and  intricate 

93 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

composition,  the  eye  is  struck  by  his  lack  of  dramatic 
gift,  the  poverty  of  his  imagination,  and  the  schematic 
character  of  the  faces. 

Closely  related  to  Semiradsky  is  V.  Polyenov,  who  de- 
serves the  attention  of  the  historian  of  Russian  art,  as 
a  socially  spirited  leader  and  as  a  man  of  unusual 
refinement  and  culture.  The  best  that  he  created  are 
unassuming,  but  poetically  conceived  Russian  land- 
scapes. Much  poorer  are  his  celebrated  Oriental 
sketches,  which  strike  one  disagreeably  with  their 
mawkish  colours  and  amateur  painting.  Least  com- 
forting are  his  historical  compositions,  which,  while  hav- 
ing all  the  defects  of  Semiradsky's  paintings,  are  in- 
ferior to  them  in  colour  and  technique. 

Mikyeshin  (1836-1896),  to  be  considered  with  K. 
Makovsky,  is  one  of  the  most  gifted  Russian  artists. 
He  entangled  himself  in  his  own  talent,  so  to  speak,  and 
his  bootless  imitation  of  Zichy  turned  him  into  a  dis- 
agreeably dashing,  trivial  and  superficial  mannerist.  A 
few  drawings  and  sketches  and  some  of  his  modest 
aquarelles — are  the  sole  title  to  a  place  in  the  Pantheon 
of  Russian  painting  of  this  monument-designer  and 
"historical"  painter.  This  cannot  be  repeated  of 
lacobi.  The  whole  of  his  ceuvre  with  its  wardrobe  of 
insipid  masquerade  costumes,  and  all  its  badly  drawn 
puppets, — would  have  been  relegated  to  the  archives, 

94 


Romanticism 

if  not  for  his  painting,  "The  Convicts  at  the  Resting- 
place,"  one  of  the  first  Russian  denunciatory  pictures. 
It  is  true  that  its  artistic  merits  are  not  great.  Its  col- 
ours and  painting  are  below  criticism.  But  the  picture 
is  too  deeply  characteristic  and  too  cleverly  arranged 
not  to  make  us  regret  that  lacobi  did  not  remain  faith- 
ful to  this  realistic  kind,  in  which  he  surely  would  have 
given  Russian  society  many  a  successful  and  well- 
aimed  illustration  of  the  burning  problems  of  his  day. 
In  addition  to  these  masters,  the  following  two  groups 
of  epigones  of  Romanticism  are  noteworthy :  Bronni- 
kov,  Smirnov,  the  brothers  Svyedomsky,  and  Bakalo- 
vich, — all  followers  of  Semiradsky;  Beideman,  Va- 
silyev,  and  Wenig,  the  disciples  of  Bruni.  Quite  alone 
stands  the  curious,  but  undeveloped  Lomtev,  and  the 
"sea  poet"  Ayvazovsky,  a  highly  gifted,  but  somewhat 
monotonous  Romanticist.  We  shall  return  to  him  in 
the  chapter  on  Russian  landscape  painting. 


95 


CHAPTER  IV 

RELIGIOUS    PAINTING 
(Alexander  I.  Ivanov,  1806-1858) 

ALEXANDER  IVANOV,  too,  belongs  to  Ro- 
manticism. As  a  man  of  unusual  and  lofty 
seriousness,  of  a  truly  mystical  nature  and 
of  a  penetrating  inner  vision,  he  deserves,  more  than 
the  noisy  Bryullov  and  the  superficial  Bruni,  to  be 
enrolled  in  the  Honour  Legion  of  true  romanticists. 
His  artistic  views  were  undoubtedly  formed  under  the 
influence  of  Overbeck's  romantic  art  and  Gogol's  mys- 
tical preaching.  Nevertheless,  Ivanov  must  not  be  con- 
sidered a  true  representative  of  Romanticism.  In  part 
he  did  not  grow  up  to  it,  and  in  part  he  went  beyond 
it.  In  whatever  he  accomplished,  he  remained  too  de- 
pendent upon  the  intellectuality  and  conventionality 
of  classicism ;  in  whatever  he  wished  to  achieve,  in  what- 
ever he  left  unfinished, — half-ready,  awaiting,  as  it 
were,  the  final  consummation — Romanticism  remained 
infinitely  far  behind  him.  He  was  the  only  one  among 
Russian  artists  to  approach  in  stature  the  giants  of 

96 


THE    HEAD    OF   THE    APOSTLE    ANDREW 


Alexandre  Iianov 


Religious  Painting 

Russian  letters:  to  the  Slavophiles,  to  Gogol,  and 
partly  also  to  Dostoyevsky.  At  the  same  time  he  re- 
mained perfectly  independent  of  literature,  an  artist 
in  the  full  sense  of  the  word. 

The  education  Ivanov  received  is  fully  responsible 
for  his  lack  of  inward  unity.  The  son  of  that  stern 
classicist,  Andrey  Ivanov,  who  was  sent  to  the  Academy 
straight  from  the  Foundling  Hospital,  and  gradually 
turned  there  into  a  flawless  professor,  Alexander  spent 
his  youth  in  the  suffocating  atmosphere  of  academic 
scholasticism.  Moreover,  this  classical  system  assumed 
in  the  austere,  respectable  middle-class  family  a  pe- 
culiar coldly  official  character,  impregnable,  and  ex- 
tremely narrow.  A  humdrum  existence,  both  at  home 
and  at  school,  was  Ivanov's  life  before  his  trip  abroad. 
To  the  Society  of  Encouragement  of  Artists  belongs  the 
honour  of  having  saved  this  Russian  master.  Greatly 
encouraged  by  the  striking  success  of  their  first  travel- 
ling scholars,  the  brothers  Bryullov,  the  Society  decided 
to  send  Ivanov  also  to  Rome,  and  in  1831  he  left  his 
native  country,  whither  he  was  destined  to  return  only 
a  month  before  his  death.  The  real  Ivanov  found  him- 
self and  developed  abroad,  where  he  lived  for  upward 
of  twenty-five  years. 

He  did  not  assert  his  individuality  at  once.  On  the 
contrary,  Rome,  at  first,  nearly  proved  his  undoing,  for 

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The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

it  was  in  Rome  that  the  decrepit  classicism  was  living 
its  last  days;  here  were  the  headquarters  of  the  inter- 
national colony  of  artists  who  catered  to  the  tasteless- 
ness  and  banality  of  the  ever  flowing  stream  of  tourists. 
The  energetic,  wayward  and  highly  cultured  Bryullov, 
the  keen,  well-educated  Bruni  could  afford  to  be  sub- 
jected to  this  spirit,  without  running  so  great  a  risk  as 
Ivanov  did,  of  losing  themselves  in  the  insipidity  and 
routine  which  flourished  in  Rome ;  what  saved  Ivanov 
was  his  own  nature,  which,  although  not  very  spirited 
and  vivid,  was  deep,  concentrated,  and  loathed  the 
staleness  of  classicism.  He  owed  much  also  to  his  ac- 
quaintance with  the  sincere  and  serious  artist.  Over- 
beck.  Overbeck  pointed  out  to  him  the  ways  which 
led  him  out  of  the  straits  of  the  academic  formula,  but 
once  on  the  highroad,  Ivanov  left  his  mentor  far  behind 
and  came  near  those  revelations  of  mystery,  which  were 
utterly  inaccessible  to  the  somewhat  limited  Overbeck, 
who,  besides,  entangled  himself  in  religious  hypocrisy. 
Unfortunately,  Ivanov  definitely  found  himself  only 
in  the  very  last  years  of  his  life,  and  the  true  Ivanov, 
the  grandiose  and  excellent  artist,  is  known  to  us  by  his 
Biblical  sketches  only,  which  he  intended  to  develop 
into  vast  canvases  upon  his  return  to  Russia.  Through- 
out the  twenty-five  years  he  spent  in  Rome,  he  simply 
had  no  time  to  devote  himself  to  free  creative  activity, 

98 


Religious  Painting 

for  he  was  brought  to  a  deadlock  by  the  two  pictures 
which  he  deemed  his  duty  to  paint  for  the  Petrograd 
connoisseurs.  The  first  was  "Christ  Showing  Himself 
to  Magdalen"  (1835,  Museum  of  Alexandre  III) ,  con- 
ceived, though  not  executed,  after  the  classical  fashion. 
The  second  was  the  ill-fated  "Christ  Appearing  Before 
the  People,"  which  tormented  Ivanov  for  about  twenty 
years,  for  he  became  entangled,  from  the  very  outset, 
in  his  efforts  to  combine  in  it  various  religious  consid- 
erations with  complete  historical  accuracy  and  a  per- 
fect observance  of  the  classical  traditions. 

Yet  in  this  work,  too,  there  is  the  reflection  of  great 
artistic  power.  Separate  portions  of  it,  individual 
types,  fragments  of  landscape — hint  at  what  Ivanov 
could  have  been,  had  he  not  been  crippled  by  his  edu- 
cation. They  show  also  into  what  a  great  master  he 
could  have  developed,  had  not  death  taken  him  at  the 
very  moment  when,  having  bidden  farewell  to  the  va- 
garies of  his  youth,  he  was  entering  upon  a  wholly  inde- 
pendent and  admirable  road. 

In  the  hall  of  the  Rumyantzev  Museum,  where  this 
canvas  has  found  hospitality,  all  the  walls  are  covered 
with  Ivanov's  innumerable  studies  for  it.  In  the  same 
way,  as  many,  or  even  more  sketches  are  scattered  in  the 
Tretyakov  Gallery,  in  the  collections  of  M.  P.  Botkin, 
and  elsewhere.    It  is  these  sketches  that  show  what 

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The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

Ivanov  aimed  at.  They  show  him  not  only  as  a  won- 
derful master  of  design  and  an  astonishing  connoisseur 
of  form,  but  also  as  a  deep  psychologist.  Moreover,  in 
some  of  his  landscape  sketches  and  in  his  studies  in  nude 
he  is  a  bold  innovator  in  colour,  foretelling  the  achieve- 
ments of  Impressionism  long  before  its  appearance.  In 
these  studies  nature  is  Ivanov's  school  to  a  degree  which 
was  scarcely  attained  outside  of  classic  art.  This 
schooling  helped  him  to  master,  with  astonishing  ease, 
the  most  complicated  compositions  in  the  Biblical 
sketches,  with  which  he  busied  himself  in  his  leisure 
hours. 

There  exists  an  opinion  that  Ivanov's  essential  lack 
of  preparation  would  have  impaired  his  subsequent  ac- 
tivity. Did  he  not,  it  is  said,  entangle  himself  in  his 
early,  somewhat  naive  religiosity,  echoes  of  which  so 
strangely  lingered  in  him  afterwards, — despite  his 
spiritual  maturity?  And  did  not  his  peace  of  mind 
come  very  near  being  completely  unsettled  by  Strauss's 
sceptical  conclusions,  with  which  Ivanov  grew  enam- 
oured in  the  last  years  of  his  life?  Nevertheless,  when 
one  studies  Ivanov's  sketches,  these  doubts  vanish  of 
their  own  accord.  The  master  who  reproduced  the 
most  palpitating  and  grandiose  passages  of  the  Bible 
with  such  a  convincing  grandeur,  the  artist  who  was 
able  to  depict  the  evangelic  events  in  such  a  super- 

lOO 


Religious  Painting 

natural,  "magical"  light,  who  gave  some  scenes  the 
force  of  an  eye-witness'  tale — such  a  man  could  not  be- 
tray all  this  overnight  and  return  to  the  inconsistencies 
of  his  early  life  or  to  lose  himself  in  the  desert  of  un- 
belief. Ivanov  was  too  original  and  powerful  a  per- 
sonality for  this.  His  very  struggle  with  himself,  long 
and  obstinate,  out  of  which  he  emerged  a  conqueror, 
full  of  hopes  and  plans,  exhibits  his  tremendous  power : 
that  of  tenacity,  and  that  of  progress.  Strauss's  doc- 
trine itself  would  most  likely  have  been  transformed 
and  borne  fruits  of  beauty.  A  deeply  mystical  nature, 
like  Ivanov's  could  not  suddenly  lose  its  mysticism  and 
turn  into  a  common-place,  or,  what  is  worse,  weak- 
headed  realist. 

Death  bore  him  away  in  the  most  significant  moment 
of  his  life.  .  .  .  Probably  death  was  moved  by  pity  for 
the  endless  sufferings  of  this  martyr,  who,  on  his  return 
home,  would  have  undergone  one  more  painful  trial. 
Ivanov  came  back  to  Russia  at  a  moment  when  all  mys- 
tical preaching  must  have  seemed  a  wild  anachronism, 
when  all  that  was  fresh  and  young  in  Russian  art  broke 
off  most  resolutely  with  the  aesthetics  created  by  Ro- 
manticism, and  turned  to  immediate  depiction  of  real- 
ity and  to  the  propaganda  of  civic  principles. 

Before  passing  to  the  history  of  realism  in  Russian 
art,  we  shall  briefly  mention  several  artists  who  may  be 

lOl 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

considered  as  Ivanov's  successors  in  religious  paint- 
ing. 

Gay  (1831-1894)  may  be  looked  upon  as  Ivanov's 
nearest  successor  because  of  some  similarity  in  their 
aims  and  problems.  Despite  the  fact  that  Gay  him- 
self pointed  out  his  dependence  on  Ivanov,  his  whole 
personality  differs  essentially  from  Ivanov's.  When 
Gay,  late  in  the  forties,  entered  the  Academy,  he  did 
not  find  there  the  old  scholastic  discipline  and  drill. 
This  school,  even  though  it  tormented  Ivanov  with  its 
pedantic  requirements,  laid  in  him  that  firm  foundation 
of  knowledge  which  is  exhibited  in  every  stroke  of  his 
brush  and  constitutes  his  distinguishing  trait.  Gay  re- 
mained a  half-dilettante.  At  times,  through  the  power 
of  his  natural  endowments  he  succeeded  in  attaining  a 
certain  perfection  and  beauty,  but  in  most  cases  he  did 
not  meet  the  demands  of  painting.  Gay's  highest  tech- 
nical achievement  is  a  certain  brilliancy  and  originality 
of  colouring,  but  the  drawing  in  his  canvases  is,  with 
rare  exceptions,  childish  and  sometimes  even  lapses  into 
ugly  slovenliness  and  grossness.  There  was  another 
reason  why  Gay  could  not  be  the  true  successor  of 
Ivanov.  Gay  absorbed  all  the  poisons  of  Herzen's 
epoch,  and  his  mind  held  a  queer  combination  of  sym- 
pathies for  Bryullov's  masked-ball  art,  of  sincere  rap- 
ture at  the  sight  of  absolute  beauty,  and  of  an  enthu- 

102 


Religious  Painting 

siasm  for  Tolstoy's  preaching,  mingled  with  his  own 
rather  vague  mystical  views.  His  very  themes,  marked 
with  the  stamp  of  almost  hysterical  passion,  were  dia- 
metrically opposed  to  the  holy  tranquillity  of  Ivanov's 
aspirations. 

Nevertheless,  taken  in  himself.  Gay  appears  as  a  well 
pronounced  and  brilliant  artistic  personality,  especially 
in  his  last  works,  which  express  a  peculiar,  very  "Rus- 
sian" attitude  toward  the  Evangel:  namely,  he  views 
the  New  Testament  as  the  gospel  of  exclusively  spirit- 
ual beauty,  and  purposely  emphasises  the  outward  un- 
comeliness  of  both  Christ  and  his  surroundings.  Had 
Raphael  seen  "The  Crucifixion"  and  other  of  Gay's 
paintings,  monstrous  in  their  ugliness,  he  would  have 
torn  his  garments  in  indignation,  for  to  him,  the  heir 
of  the  Hellenes,  the  conception  of  God  was  inseparable 
from  that  of  Beauty.  Different  would  be  the  relation 
to  Gay  of  Rembrandt,  the  son  of  the  Reformation,  in 
whose  gloomy  art  the  same  notes  sound  as  in  Gay's. 
But  Rembrandt  was  too  much  of  an  artist  not  to  conceal 
the  intentional  ugliness  of  his  images  under  the  beauty 
of  painting  and  colouring.  Gay,  however,  with  truly 
Russian  straightforwardness,  and  with  truly  Russian 
nihilism,  ever  in  quest  of  harrowing  impressions,  put 
aside  artistic  demands,  and,  burning  with  passion  and 
zeal,  strove  to  depict  what  appeared  to  him  as  "truth." 

103 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

As  a  result,  we  have  something  in  the  nature  of  "official 
reports,"  repugnant,  but  quivering  with  life,  and,  there- 
fore, inspiring  terror,  which,  at  any  rate,  will  preserve 
for  themselves  a  place  of  honour  in  the  painting  of  the 
end  of  the  nineteenth  century.  These  works  undoubt- 
edly possess  serious  and  rare  qualities;  they  are  abso- 
lutely devoid  of  triviality,  they  are  luminous,  wholly 
individual  utterances,  all  white-hot  with  sincerity  and 
noble  conviction.  This  unbeautiful  art  of  Gay's  can- 
not be  denied  inner,  spiritual  nobleness,  and  in  art,  as 
in  life,  nobility  is  one  of  the  rarest  and  most  precious 
things. 

This  same  rare  quality  distinguishes  also  Gay's  por- 
traits, probably  the  best  Russian  portraits  of  the  sec- 
ond half  of  the  nineteenth  century.  His  faces  are  not 
only  life-like  to  a  truly  startling  degree,  they  also  bear 
the  imprint  of  the  artist's  noble  mind.  They  are  abso- 
lutely devoid  of  cheap  emphasis, — the  delight  of  Gay's 
colleagues,  who  were  all  educated  on  the  civic  rhetoric 
of  the  sixties,  and  were  finally  poisoned  by  it.  Gay  ap- 
proached the  portrait  with  immense  curiosity  and  with 
the  most  palpitating,  almost  pious  attention  to  his  ob- 
ject. He,  whose  attitude  toward  Christ  was  so  pre- 
meditated, relinquished  all  set  intention,  all  "arrange- 
ment" in  his  portraits.  These  are  not  rich  in  striking 
effects,  but  on  all  of  them  lies  the  imprint  of  the  living 

104 


Religious  Painting 

poetry  of  the  human  soul.  Future  men  will  look  on 
them  with  that  mystic  thrill  familiar  to  all  who  come  in 
too  intimate  a  contact  with  the  life  of  past  ages.  In 
this  respect,  by  far  the  most  impressive  work  will  seem 
his  "Tolstoy,"  in  the  Tretyakov  gallery,  the  wise  and 
gloomy  titan,  deeply  absorbed  in  his  great  work.  Some 
of  his  portraits  have  all  the  charm  of  intimacy  and  all 
the  gracefulness  of  domestic  happiness.  Especially  re- 
markable is  the  portrait  of  Mme.  Petrunkevich  standing 
at  a  window  opening  on  the  forest.  The  quiet  mood  of 
a  summer  day  in  the  country  is  rendered  in  this  picture 
with  admirable  sincerity.  It  must  be  also  observed, 
that  the  pictorial  element  of  the  portraits  is  of  a  finer 
quality  than  that  of  the  pictures.  In  some  of  the  for- 
mer, for  example  in  the  famous  portrait  of  Herzen, 
Gay  attains  the  splendour  and  the  firmness  of  Bryul- 
lov's  brush,  without  falling  into  cheap  effects  and  with- 
out betraying  his  essential  character  of  inward  nobility. 
Others  who  chose  Ivanov's  way  were  Kramskoy,  V. 
Vasnetzov,  Nesterov  and  Vrubel.  All  four  would  be 
unthinkable  without  their  great  master,  but  no  one  of 
them  reached  his  height ;  the  first  three  because  of  lack 
of  talent,  the  fourth,  because  of  purely  external  cir- 
cumstances, which  did  not  allow  him  to  unfold  all  the 
splendour  of  his  brilliant  and  rare  gifts.  Kramskoy 
(1857-1887)    is   known   in   the   history  of  Russian 

105 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

thought  as  one  of  the  prominent  representatives  of  the 
realistic  tendencies  which  grew  up  in  the  favourable  at- 
mosphere of  the  positivistic  philosophy  of  the  second 
half  of  the  nineteenth  century,  as  a  reaction  against  a 
turbulent  and  mystical  Romanticism.  A  strict  and  so- 
ber realist  is  Kramskoy  also  in  his  portraits.  Yet  in  his 
inner  life  Kramskoy  was  far  from  being  an  absolutely 
straightforward  apostle  of  Russian  realism.  In  the  ex- 
periences of  his  own  spiritual  world  Kramskoy's  was 
not  at  all  such  a  perfectly  clear  and  well  balanced 
mind  as  would  appear  from  his  portraits  and  social  ac- 
tivity. The  desire  for  spiritual  freedom  was  not  en- 
tirely unknown  to  him.  There  remained  in  his  mind  a 
living  spark  of  religious  intuition  and  mystical  longing, 
and  this  lent  his  figure  that  peculiar,  characteristically 
Russian  depth,  warmth,  and  complexity,  which  both 
Vereshchagin  and  Perov  lacked.  Unfortunately,  nei- 
ther time,  nor  education  allowed  him  to  develop  all 
his  possibilities.  And  finally  the  power  of  his  purely 
artistic  gift  was  infinitely  inferior  to  those  spiritual 
aspirations  that  dwelled  in  him. 

Kramskoy's  "Christ  in  the  Desert"  is  the  most  con- 
vincing proof  of  what  has  been  said.  The  subject-mat- 
ter of  this  painting,  closely  resembling  the  themes  of 
Dostoyevsky's  revelations,  held  the  artist's  attention 
for  many  years,  and,  strange  to  say,  also  in  his  youth, 

106 


ST.    NIKITA    OF    NOVGOROD 

Victor  VasneUov 


Religious  Painting 

that  is,  during  the  period  of  the  highest  development 
of  the  positivistic  tendencies  in  Russia.  And  yet  the 
picture  "Christ  in  the  Desert"  strikes  one  because  of 
its  hollowness,  the  lack  of  conviction  and  the  absence 
of  a  definite  idea.  Kramskoy  approached  his  theme  too 
cautiously,  too  calculatingly, — his  mind  stirred  up  by 
no  inner  tempest;  he  intended  to  lay  bare  mankind's 
greatest  and  most  complicated  notions  by  means  of  the 
plainest  materials  sliced  out  directly  from  life.  Kram- 
skoy forgot  the  specific  laws  of  painting,  the  relative 
poverty  of  its  means  and,  at  the  same  time,  he  neglected 
its  peculiar  wealth.  The  human  figure  represented 
among  cliffs  which  are  scrupulously  copied  from  na- 
ture, and  draped  in  unbearably  accurate  folds,  is  wholly 
incapable — without  verbal  commentaries — of  express- 
ing the  multitude  of  ideas  that  agitated  and  tormented 
the  artist's  mind,  despite  the  suffering  expressed  on  the 
face  of  the  figure.  So  that  this  fairly  satisfying  work, 
though  touching  in  its  lofty  seriousness,  in  no  way  in- 
dicates Kramskoy's  dependence  on  Ivanov's  deep  reve- 
lations, although  the  former  was  rather  fond  of  point- 
ing out  this  imaginary  dependence. 

The  same  imprint  of  excessive  reserve  and  cautious 
tameness  lies  on  Kramskoy's  other  works,  in  which  he 
took  the  liberty  of  deviating  from  the  canon  of  realism. 
His  "Ruslan,"  his  "Nymphs"  are  minutely  deliberate 

107 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

and  pedantic  in  their  definiteness  of  composition.  It 
is  true  that  some  of  their  peculiarities  indicate  the  art- 
ist's quickness  and  wit,  but,  on  the  whole,  these  com- 
positions, too,  leave  the  spectator  absolutely  cold  and 
indifferent.  In  these  pictures  his  dry  manner  of  paint- 
ing, his  dull  colours,  and  exceeding  realism  obscure  the 
splendour  of  the  poetical  conception.  The  demands 
of  his  education  and  surroundings  did  not  fan  into  a 
real  flame  the  spark  that  smouldered  in  Kramskoy. 

V.  Vasnetzov,  universally  idolised  up  to  recent  times, 
is  an  interesting  and  big  artist,  but  he  cannot  be  looked 
upon  as  the  real  successor  of  Ivanov.  His  very  aim :  to 
reproduce  the  "purely  Russian,"  that  is  the  limited  and 
almost  ethnographical  attitude  toward  Christ,  is  infi- 
nitely inferior  to  the  lofty  "all-human"  ideals  of  Iva- 
nov. Vasnetzov's  humble  birth  was  credited  in  his 
favour,  but,  it  seems  to  us,  it  is  in  this  very  origin, 
in  the  manifest  lack  of  culture  by  which  this  other- 
wise very  intelligent  artist  is  distinguished,  that  there 
lies  the  cause  of  the  ineffectiveness  of  his  art.  Of 
course,  popular  art,  pure  and  simple,  is  eternal,  being 
the  living  utterance  of  a  vast  social  organism.  But 
its  value  and  interest  are  the  greater,  the  purer  and 
more  naive  it  is,  and  the  more  strongly  there  appears 
in  it  the  element  of  peculiar,  national  civilisation, — 
however  different  this  may  be  from  the  general  con- 

108 


Religious  Painting 

ception  of  culture.  Less  precious  is  "semi-cultural" 
popular  art,  because  only  slurred  over  by  general  cul- 
ture, and  least  valuable  are  those  works  in  which 
artists  from  the  people  endeavour  to  combine  bits  of 
general  culture,  of  which  they  had  tasted,  with  what 
they  owe  to  their  early  education.  As  a  result  we 
have  a  vague,  hybrid,  compromising  art,  which  has  all 
the  defects  of  its  two  component  elements,  rather  than 
their  merits. 

Vasnetzov  is  a  gifted,  lively  and  impressionable  art- 
ist. His  energetic  "Stone  age,"  his  decorative  compo- 
sitions, partly  also  his  fairy-tale  pictures, — the  charm 
of  which  is  marred  by  their  size  and  their  mawkish  col- 
ours— sufficiently  testify  to  a  certain  originality  and, 
especially,  liveliness,  and  impressionability  of  the  mas- 
ter. Great  is  Vasnetzov's  merit  as  a  pioneer  of  neo- 
idealism,  who  came  forward  with  his  devotional  can- 
vases when  all  his  colleagues  sat  at  the  feet  of  Proud- 
hon  and  Chernyshevsky.  But  Vasnetzov's  religious 
paintings,  which  made  their  appearance  so  opportunely 
in  the  reign  of  Alexander  III,  in  the  period  of  official 
Slavophilism,  in  the  days  of  the  celebrated  "rebirth"  of 
Russian  Orthodoxy — this  art  is  far  from  having  that 
artistic  importance  which  our  society  recently  attributed 
to  it.  After  all,  Vasnetzov's  religious  painting  is  but  a 
successful  parody  on  the  well  established  canons  of  By- 

109 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

zantine  and  old  Russian  iconography,  to  which  Vas- 
netzov  applied,  without  much  taste,  a  rather  hollow 
pathos  and  fairy-tale  effects.  The  Cathedral  of  St. 
Vladimir,  at  Kiev,  decorated  by  him,  cannot  bear  com- 
parison with  the  ideal  Christian  temple,  the  dream  of 
Ivanov.  Just  like  Flandrin's  attempt  to  restore  the 
Roman-Byzantine  painting,  like  the  works  of  Steinle 
and  of  Cornelius'  disciples,  who  endeavoured  to  return 
to  the  purely  German  style  of  Diirer, — Vasnetzov's  ef- 
forts will  hold  in  the  history  of  art  an  honourable, 
though  not  very  considerable  place.  These  phases  of 
the  church  painting  of  the  nineteenth  century  are  infi- 
nitely inferior  to  Ivanov's  grandiose  conceptions,  to 
his  lofty  magnificence  and  prophetic  might. 

Besides,  even  in  the  purely  pictoral  respect,  Vasnet- 
zov's canvases  are  far  below  Ivanov's  works.  In  com- 
parison with  Ivanov,  Gay  is  a  barbarian,  yet,  as  his 
portraits  prove  beyond  doubt,  he  did  not  completely 
forsake  the  artistic  traditions.  It  was  as  though  he  dis- 
dained further  development  and  would  not  take  ad- 
vantage of  the  achievements  of  his  times  out  of  con- 
viction, rather  than  because  of  any  other  reason.  But 
Vasnetzov  was  different.  He  was  the  true  child  of 
the  seventies  and  eighties,  the  dreariest  period  in  the 
history  of  Russian  painting.  Vasnetzov's  technique  is 
feeble  and  bears  the  imprint  of  a  dilettante's  timidity, 

no 


Religious  Painting 

nearly  always  disguised  by  an  illustrator's  "dexterity." 
Vasnetzov  had  no  regular  artistic  school,  and  this  lack 
of  schooling  is  felt  throughout  his  works.  It  is  natural 
that  Vasnetzov  could  not  create  his  own  artistic  school. 
A  few  artists,  however,  who  assimilated  his  manner  and 
applied  it  in  the  decoration,  in  the  so-called  Russian 
style, — of  numerous  churches,  seem  to  refute  this  state- 
ment. In  reality,  this  group  of  artists, — among  whom 
Nesterov  is  the  only  master  of  some  independence  and 
of  a  considerable  artistic  temperament, — does  not  con- 
stitute a  school.  The  prerequisite  for  the  appearance 
of  a  school  are  definite  technical  acquisitions,  or  a  cer- 
tain technical  drilling,  which  these  artists  absolutely 
lack. 

Nesterov,  however,  would  have  been  one  of  the  most 
pleasant  of  Russian  painters,  had  he  remained  faithful 
to  his  talent,  to  his  peculiar  vocation.  Nesterov  could 
have  been  an  excellent  landscape  painter.  This  is 
proved  by  the  background  of  most  of  his  canvases. 
Unfortunately  beside  the  wonderful  landscapes  there  is 
very  little  in  his  pictures  to  hold  the  eye,  and  the  land- 
scape plays  but  a  secondary  part.  It  is  only  in  his  "Vi- 
sion of  St.  Bartholomew"  that  the  figures  do  not  spoil 
the  admirable,  truly  Russian  landscape,  which  unrolls 
behind  them.  On  the  contrary,  they  even  emphasise  its 
festal  sorrow,  and  its  poignant  sadness  is  in  keeping 

111 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

with  the  downcast  figure  of  the  monk  in  the  fore- 
ground. The  rest  of  Nestorov's  pictures — with  fas- 
cinatingly conceived  landscapes  replete  with  quiet 
melancholy — are  full  of  commonplace  and  badly  exe- 
cuted figures,  which  try  hard  to  seem  sacred  and  touch- 
ing. 

The  only  artist  who  may  be  looked  upon  as  some- 
thing in  the  nature  of  a  continuation  of  Ivanov,  is  Vru- 
bel.  Among  all  the  artists  of  the  second  half  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  who  approached  religious  themes, 
only  Vrubel  did  so  with  the  same  burning  passion  and 
the  same  most  delicate  penetration  into  the  mysteries 
of  beauty,  which  distinguish  the  art  of  Ivanov.  In  ad- 
dition, the  two  artists  have  in  common  prodigious  tech- 
nical skill.  Vrubel  is  not  popular  in  Russia;  he  is 
looked  upon  as  a  mad-brained  "decadents  His  dis- 
ease *  has  definitely  discredited  him  in  the  eyes  of  "rea- 
sonable" people.  Yet,  in  reality,  of  all  the  artists  of 
the  last  two  decades,  Vrubel  alone  succeeded  in  forging 
for  himself  a  real,  an  amazing  technique.  At  the  same 
time  among  our  artists  he  is  the  only  true  poet,  who 
hovers  high  above  the  common  level.  A  bitter  life,  al- 
most ceaseless  failure,  the  unresponsiveness  of  society 
— all  this  sapped  Vrubel's  gift  and  lent  a  strange 

^  The  last  years  of  Vrubel's  life  (he  died  in  1910)  were  darkened  by 
mental  disease.     (Translator's  note.) 


112 


Religious  Painting 

"grimace"  to  his  works.  But  through  it  shines  the  true 
artistic  flame,  and  so  great  is  his  technical  knowledge, 
so  colossal  his  skill,  that  one  not  only  pardons  him  his 
grotesqueness,  but  begins  to  love  it. 


113 


CHAPTER  V 

REALISM,  AND  "pURPOSE"  PAINTING 

IT  is  customary  to  consider  Realism  the  chief  aspect 
of  Russian  painting,  the  trait  which  distinguishes 
it  from  all  other  schools  of  painting.  Since  the 
time,  however,  that  Realism  has  ceased  to  be  a  con- 
temporary phenomenon  and  has  been  perceived  in  his- 
torical perspective,  it  has  lost  its  supremacy  in  popular 
opinion  and  dwindled  down  to  the  normal  proportions 
of  a  phase  among  other  phases  of  Russian  painting. 
Henceforward,  Realism  will  be  looked  upon  as  one  of 
the  several  significant  currents  of  our  school. 

The  origin  of  Russian  realistic  painting  is  to  be 
sought  among  the  amateurs  and  imitators  of  the  eight- 
eenth century,  and  also  in  the  field  of  ethnological 
dabbling.  A  class  of  genre  painting,  termed  "the  class 
of  domestic  exercises,"  was  established  at  the  Academy 
of  Arts  for  the  purpose  of  forming  Russian  "Teniers 
and  Wouwermans"  for  the  lovers  of  native  painting. 
More  important  for  the  development  of  our  realistic 
painting  were  the  works  of  various  foreign  ethnologists 
and  the  etchings  of  foreign  artists,  which  were  the  first 

114 


Realism^  and  ''''Purpose'^  Painting 

to  attract  attention  to  the  peculiarities  of  Russian  life. 
Of  course,  these  masters,  such  as  Leprince,  Geissler, 
Damame,  Atkinson,  and  others  were  not  realists  in  the 
true  sense  of  the  term.  The  motive  of  their  artistic 
efforts  was  not  the  desire  to  depict  the  charm  of  every- 
day life;  what  they  recorded  was  the  peculiarities  they 
noticed  in  the  curious  Russian  customs  and  manners. 
At  any  rate,  they  attracted  the  attention  of  Russain 
society  to  the  colourfulness  and  picturesqueness  of  the 
folk-life.  A  few  Russian  masters  followed  in  their 
steps :  under  Catherine  II — the  curious,  neglected  Yer- 
menyev,  also  Tankov,  Mikhail  Ivanov  and  the  sculp- 
tor Kozlovsky;  later  on:  Martynov,  Alexandrov, 
partly  Orlovsky,  who  has  already  been  discussed, 
Karnyeyev,  and  the  illustrators:  Galaktionov,  I. 
Ivanov,  Sapozhnikov,  and  others.  The  most  interest- 
ing among  these  artists  is  Tankov  (1739-1799).  He 
attacked  complex  themes,  like  "The  Fair,"  "The  Vil- 
lage Fire,"  and  mastered  them  quite  successfully  by 
means  of  reminiscences  of  Dutch  and  Flemish  paint- 
ings. 

The  first  genuine  Russian  realist  was,  without  a 
doubt,  Alexyey  Venetzianov  (1779-1847),  one  of  the 
most  striking  figures  of  the  Russian  school.  As  he  did 
not  become  a  professional  painter  until  late  in  life,  he 
escaped  the  levelling  influence  of  the  Academy.    The 

115 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

successes  of  his  contemporaries  Yegorov  and  Shebuyev 
in  the  field  of  classical  art  did  not  move  him.  He 
modestly  chose  a  way  of  his  own  and,  as  he  progressed 
along  it  methodically  and  quietly,  he  founded  a  small 
school  of  painters  who  considered  it  their  main  pur- 
pose to  depict,  unassumingly,  their  surroundings. 

From  the  later  phase  of  Realism  Venetzianov's  art 
is  distinguished  by  a  very  characteristic  and,  from  the 
artistic  standpoint,  highly  valuable  trait:  it  is  not  nar- 
rative. Not  literary  themes,  not  anecdotes  ^  moved 
Venetzianov,  but  rather  pictorial  motives,  sheer  col- 
our problems,  directly  put  by  nature.  And  Venetzi- 
anov was  well  enough  prepared  to  master  these  prob- 
lems with  simplicity  and  artistic  skill.  He  possessed 
more  technical  knowledge  than  many  of  his  colleagues. 
He  was  lucky  enough  to  have  been  at  one  time  the 
pupil  of  Borovikovsky,  and  he  learned  from  this  vir- 
tuoso many  a  secret  of  the  craft,  which  was  later  on  for- 
gotten. Venetzianov's  best  works  are  his  portraits, 
his  "Barn,"  where,  following  the  example  of  Granet, 
he  endeavours  to  depict  the  interior  of  a  scantily 
lighted  building;  his  "Housewife,  Settling  Accounts," 
reminiscent,  in  regard  to  light  effects,  of  Pieter  de 

*  His  paintings  with  narrative  themes,  such  as  "The  Last  Communion," 
"The  Recruit's  Farewell,"  and  "The  Soldier's  Return,"  do  not  belong  to 
his  best  works.  He  is  less  veracious  in  them.  The  arrangement  is  awk- 
ward, and  the  pictorial  element  neglected.     (Author's  note.) 

116 


Realism^  and  '''Purpose^'  Painting 

Hooch,  and  his  "Peasants."  All  these  works  have 
made  good  their  claim  to  belong  to  the  classics  of  the 
Russian  School. 

Venetzianov  was  fully  aware  of  the  importance  of 
his  efforts,  and  he  strove  to  strengthen  the  art  he  in- 
augurated. He  did  not  hesitate  to  defy  the  Academy 
when  he  found  himself  driven  to  it,  and  he  founded  his 
own  Academy,  with  careful  study  of  nature  as  its  sole 
guiding  principle.  His  enterprise  found  financial 
support,  and  at  one  time  Venetzianov's  school  flour- 
ished. It  sent  out  Plakhov,  Zaryanko,  Krylov,  Mik- 
hailov,  Mokritzky,  Krendovsky,  Zelentzov,  Tyranov, 
Shchedrovsky — all  of  them — modest,  plain  people, 
who,  however,  transmitted  to  posterity  the  true  image 
of  their  times.  Among  them  Krylov  (died  in  1850) 
and  Tyranov  (1808-1859)  are  distinguished  by  deli- 
cacy, but  it  is  Shchedrovsky  who  accomplished  most, 
leaving  a  long  gallery  of  types,  in  which  Petrograd  of 
Gogol's  times  lives  again.  Unfortunately,  Venetzi- 
anov's school  could  not  get  deeply  rooted,  and  the  mas- 
ter lived  to  see,  in  his  old  age,  his  best  pupils,  dazzled 
by  Bryullov's  success,  desert  him  to  pass  into  the  camp 
of  the  painter  of  "Pompeii,"  where  they  rapidly  lost 
their  freshness  and  turned  into  cold,  pompous  academ- 
icists.  Only  one  follower  remained  faithful  to 
Venetzianov's  precepts.    This  was  Zaryanko   (1818- 

117 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

1870) ,  a  good  technicist,  but,  unfortunately,  a  man  of 
shallow  mind,  who  turned  the  living  precepts  of  his 
master  into  a  rigid,  lifeless  formula.  His  portraits  are 
faultlessly  drawn  and  methodically  painted,  but  by 
their  dryness  and  lack  of  animation  they  remind  one 
of  coloured  photographs. 

In  addition  to  Venetzianov,  there  worked  in  the  first 
half  of  the  nineteenth  century  several  other  realists, 
who,  however,  busied  themselves  almost  exclusively 
with  portraits.  To  these  belong  Varneck,  a  very  spir- 
ited artist  and  an  excellent  draughtsman,  who,  unfor- 
tunately, used  an  unpleasant  colour  gamut;  and  the 
delicate  water  colour  painters :  P.  T.  Sokolov,  M.  Tere- 
benev,  and  A.  Bryullov.  Several  first-class  interieurs^ 
executed  entirely  in  Venetzianov's  manner,  belong 
also  to  the  brush  of  Count  T.  P.  Tolstoy,  In  these  the 
stern  empire  setting  is  rendered  graceful  and  snug  by 
the  intimacy  of  the  execution.  These  belong  to  the 
most  touching  pictures  of  the  Russian  School. 

In  the  twenties  there  came  into  prominence  in  the 
West  the  so-called  genre,  that  is,  sentimental,  face- 
tious or  moralising  stories,  rendered  in  painting.  This 
kind  of  painting  was  imported  into  Russia  in  the  thir- 
ties. It  attracted  several  followers  among  Russian 
painters,  such  as  Sternberg,  who  died  prematurely, 
Neff,  to  some  extent,  and,  somewhat  later,  Ivan  Soko- 

118 


Realism^  and  ''''Purpose^''  Painting 

lov,  Trutovsky,  Chemyshev,  and  others.  Their  art 
was  different  from  that  of  Venetzianov  in  so  far  as 
their  main  concern  was  not  painting  itself,  but  this  or 
that  subject  told  by  means  of  painting/  They  laid 
the  first  foundation  of  narrative  painting  in  Russia, 
and  soon,  repeating  the  evolution  of  the  West,  this  was 
followed  by  realistic  painting  of  the  narrow,  doctrinal 
type. 

The  so-called  "tendency"  took  hold  of  almost  the 
entire  next  generation  of  artists.  Aside  from  the 
main  current  there  remained  only  the  faithful  devotees 
of  the  Academy,  as  well  as  such  artists  as  were,  by  the 
nature  of  their  work,  confined  to  a  simple  rendition  of 
nature:  the  landscape  painters  and  the  portraitists — 
among  the  latter  Zaryanko  and  the  gifted,  deft  Maka- 
rov.  A  place  apart  is  occupied  by  the  magnificent,  but 
very  uneven  Peter  Sokolov  (1818-1899).  He  was 
the  only  one  among  the  artists  of  the  period  from  the 
forties  to  the  seventies  to  remain  faithful  to  painting 
and  its  direct  aims.  Unfortunately,  Peter  Sokolov 
was  of  too  loose  a  character,  and  this  trait  is  most  elo- 
quently reflected  in  his  works.  Most  of  his  paintings 
are  improvised  insipidity.  Only  some  of  his  portraits 
and  hunting  scenes  and  some  of  his  sad,  typically  Rus- 

*  In  this  same  category  can  be  classed  several  gifted  illustrators  and 
cartoonists  of  that  time:  Stepanov,  Agin,  and  Timm.     (Author's  note.) 

119 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

sian  landscapes,  show  him  as  a  great  master  and  a  true 
artist.  Together  with  him  may  be  named  the  unassum- 
ing Sverchkov  (1817-1898),  an  artist  who,  although 
neither  very  gifted  nor  skilful,  created  a  separate 
branch  of  painting  for  himself,  where  he  gave  ample 
expression  to  his  artless  love  for  the  "Russian  horse." 

The  father  of  Russian  "purpose"  painting  was 
P.  A.  Fedotov  (1815-1852),  a  poor  army  officer,  and 
an  ardent  enthusiast  for  art,  who  turned  to  the  "petty" 
kind  of  realistic  painting,  partly  because,  as  a  dilet- 
tante and  self-taught  man,  he  felt  himself  unequal  to 
graver  and  higher  tasks.  The  circumstances  of  his  life 
played,  however,  a  considerable  part  in  the  shaping  of 
his  talent.  The  son  of  a  modest  retired  officer,  Fedotov 
grew  up  in  half-provincial  Moscow,  in  a  typical  mid- 
dle-class family.  Here  he  became  familiar  with  the 
every-day  life  of  the  residents  of  lonely  city  districts. 
Later  on,  in  the  military  school  and  in  the  society  of 
his  comrades  he  acquired  a  familiarity  with  military 
circles  which  played  so  important  a  role  under  Nich- 
olas I.  Finally,  when  he  came  in  contact  with  the  ar- 
tistic world,  it  was  too  late  to  go  to  school :  he  was  al- 
ready a  fully  formed  man  with  well-shaped  ideas  and 
a  manner  of  his  own  of  perceiving  and  rendering 
things. 

In  the  middle  of  the  forties  the  "tendency"  was  al- 

120 


Realism^  and  ^'' Purpose'^  Painting 

ready  in  the  air.  After  the  world-woe  and  the  abstract 
sestheticism  were  gone,  the  first  call  to  reshape  reality 
was  sounded.  In  Russia,  the  "intelligentzia"  split  into 
Westerners  and  Slavophiles,  and  recent  friends  became 
embittered  enemies;  the  dazzling  pleiad  of  our  great 
writers,  who  were  to  contribute  the  Russian  intellec- 
tual mite  to  the  treasury  of  general  culture,  were  com- 
ing of  age,  and  despite  the  ruthless  tyranny  of  Nich- 
olas's government,  the  air  was  astir  with  revolt.  The 
necessity  was  felt  of  changing  the  skin,  of  being  re- 
newed, regenerated,  of  amending  one's  ways. 

These  moods  were  to  find  expression  in  painting. 
But  it  is  natural  that  the  echo  could  not  come  from  the 
Imperial  Academy  of  Art,  a  bureaucratic,  half-courtly 
world,  nor  was  the  methodical  Venetzianov  with  his 
humble  pupils  in  a  position  to  produce  the  first  sam- 
ples of  doctrinal  propaganda  painting.  Fedotov 
alone  was  nearly  fit  for  such  a  task,  but  even  he,  a  re- 
tired officer,  pensioned  by  the  Emperor,  a  modest,  sim- 
ple man,  intelligent,  but  childishly  naive,  could  hardly 
come  up  to  the  level  of  the  literature.  He  limited 
himself  to  what  Gogol  did  fifteen  years  earlier,  that  is, 
to  a  keen,  but  not  very  caustic  satire  of  the  foibles  and 
follies  of  his  compatriots. 

It  is  as  such  a  harmless  satirist  that  he  made  his  first 
appearance  before  the  public  in  1849  with  his  oil  paint- 

121 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

ings,  of  which  "The  Fop"  is,  for  those  days,  a  bold 
satire  on  the  ambitiousness  of  the  "chinovniks"  (bu- 
reaucrats), and  "The  Major's  Courtship"  is  a  gay, 
rather  than  sharp  satire  on  the  life  of  the  merchant 
class.  Then  followed  the  series  of  pictures  where  he 
ridiculed  the  first  attempts  at  a  feministic  movement, 
the  ludicrous  sides  of  the  petty  gentry,  the  bureau- 
cracy, and  various  similar  subjects — all  of  which  were 
extensively  exploited  in  the  humoristic  periodicals  of 
the  time.  A  place  apart  is  occupied  by  his  last  works, 
in  which  he  seems  to  turn  to  a  quieter,  more  poetic,  and 
more  artistic  way  of  looking  at  things.  Such  are  his 
"Widow"  and  the  "Officer  at  the  Village,"  extraordi- 
nary in  its  poignant  sadness. 

Fedotov  was  lost  for  art  when  still  young,  because 
of  a  grave  mental  disease,  which  was  shortly  followed 
by  death.  If  we  take  into  consideration  that  he  was 
all  of  thirty  when  he  began  to  devote  himself  seriously 
to  painting,  it  becomes  clear  that  his  art  is  more  a  bril- 
liant "introduction"  than  a  complete  ensemble.  This 
wide-awake  artist,  who  with  a  truly  astonishing  rapid- 
ity developed  from  an  awkward  self-taught  man  into 
a  brilliant  painter — some  of  the  "still-life's"  in  his  pic- 
tures are  worth  the  "old  Dutchmen" — died  before  giv- 
ing expression  to  the  best  that  was  in  him.  His  imme- 
diate successor  was  another  man  from  Moscow,  Perov, 

122 


Realism^  and  ''''Purpose'''  Painting 

who  was,  in  keeping  with  the  new  spirit  of  the  times, 
a  bolder,  but  a  less  attractive  and  a  less  skilful  artist 
than  Fedotov. 

Perov  was  born  in  1833.  His  early  life  was  spent  in 
the  country  and  at  the  city  of  Arzamas,  where  he 
started  his  artistic  education  at  Stupin's  Art  School. 
Then  he  came  to  Moscow  and  attended  the  School  of 
Painting  and  Sculpture.  With  Perov,  the  venerable 
old  Capital  definitely  enters  the  history  of  Russian  art. 
This  happened  not  only  because  Moscow  was  the  heart 
of  Russian  life  in  its  most  characteristic  form,  but  also 
because  the  Capital  possessed  an  art  school  where  ab- 
solute freedom,  at  times  degenerating  into  confusion 
and  looseness,  reigned  supreme.  The  spirit  of  the  fif- 
ties and  the  sixties,  which  hailed  as  its  ideal  the  eman- 
cipation of  human  personality,  was,  naturally,  inimical 
to  all  sorts  of  restraint,  to  all  traditions  binding  the 
creative  effort,  and,  consequently,  to  the  Petrograd 
Academy  with  its  Areopagus.  Herein  lay,  however,  a 
great  danger  for  the  young  Russian  art:  it  was  becom- 
ing freer  and  more  interesting,  but,  dazzled  by  the 
magnificence  of  literature,  it  was  losing  its  "integrity," 
and  at  the  same  time  it  was  turning  away  from  its 
own  inherent  laws.  A  new  period  of  Russian  painting 
was  inaugurated,  the  so-called  "original  Russian 
School"  was  coming  into  being,  and  at  the  same  time 

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The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

"school"  in  the  technical  sense  was  falling  into  sad 
oblivion. 

•  Perov  was  a  true  child  of  his  times.  A  man  endowed 
with  a  great  gift  of  observation — searching,  daring, 
passionately  devoted  to  his  work,  he  is  incontestably  a 
fine  manifestation  of  Russian  culture,  but  his  pictures 
are  cheerless  as  such.  They  are  stories  in  colour,  which 
would  be  clearer  and  more  impressive  if  told  in  words. 
What  he  was  concerned  with  is  not  pictorial  themes, 
but  tales  which  can  be  told  by  means  of  painting. 
Even  in  Paris,  whither  he  went  as  a  scholar  of  the 
Academy,  he  missed  the  clash  of  the  artistic  currents, 
which  was  raging  in  the  world  city,  and  almost  from 
the  very  day  of  his  arrival  he  began  to  search  in  the 
Parisian  streets  for  themes  for  narrative  pictures, 
which  made  him  famous  in  his  own  country.  Of 
course,  this  search  resulted  in  nothing,  and  having  be- 
come entangled  in  his  study  of  a  world  strange  to  him, 
he,  with  rare  straightforwardness  and  conscientious- 
ness, gave  up  his  enterprise  and  applied  for  permission 
to  return  to  Russia.  This  fact  is  a  summary  of  a  whole 
page  of  the  history  of  Russian  painting. 

Unfortunately,  not  only  for  our  art,  but  also  for  the 
whole  of  our  culture,  the  feverish  animation  of  our  so- 
cial life  which  followed  the  Crimean  War  and  Alex- 
ander IPs  accession  to  the  throne,  too  soon  subsided, 

124 


M^W:H 


€ 


Realism^  and  ''''Purpose^''  Painting 

and  resulted  only  in  half-measures,  in  tragic  mutual 
misunderstanding  of  the  Government  and  the  intelli- 
gentzia, and  in  the  relapse  of  the  masses  into  a  state  of 
inert  brutality.  After  a  few  "liberal"  years,  during 
which  we  seemed  to  be  overtaking  mankind  in  its  prog- 
ress, there  ensued  a  gloomy  reaction,  which  had  the 
saddest  effects  on  our  art,  as  well  as  on  other  aspects  of 
the  national  life.  The  germs  of  an  original  Russian 
conception  of  the  aims  of  art,  which  were  contained  in 
the  works  of  Fedotov  and  Perov,  perished  before  they 
could  sprout.  Perov,  who  went  abroad  in  1864  after 
producing  his  coarse,  but  pleasant  denunciatory  pic- 
tures, came  back  at  a  moment  when  there  could  be  no 
question  of  continuing  such  bold  work.  That  is  why 
his  art,  and  that  of  many  other  painters  of  that  time, 
has  remained  something  in  the  nature  of  a  half-uttered 
word. 

Probably  the  least  artistic  among  Perov's  works  are 
his  first  paintings  executed  during  the  "period  of  the 
great  reforms."  But  at  the  same  time,  these  pictures: 
"The  Arrival  of  the  Commissary  of  Rural  Police," 
"The  Village  Sermon,"  "A  Tea-Party,"  and,  espe- 
cially, "The  Village  Church  Procession"  are  the  most 
valuable  portion  of  his  ceuvre.  As  is  the  case  in  the 
contemporary  picture  "The  Convicts'  Resting-Place" 
of  lacobi,  the  pictorial  defects  in  them  are  redeemed 

125 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

by  their  realistic  faithfulness  and  their  daring  direct- 
ness of  vision.  As  paintings  they  are  poor,  as  histor- 
ical documents,  invaluable. 

Perov's  later  works  often  betray  a  delicate  gift  of 
observation,  a  touching  sensitiveness  and  a  sympa- 
thetic attention  toward  life,  but,  on  the  whole,  they 
are  inferior  to  his  first  productions.  From  Courbet's 
style  Perov  passed  in  them  to  sentimental  caricature 
in  the  manner  of  Knaus,  and  as  his  pictorial  technique 
did  not  gain  anything  in  the  meanwhile,  the  result  was 
dull  and  insipid.  In  his  former  manner  are  executed 
"The  Meal,"  and  "The  Arrival  of  the  Governess,"  a 
wonderfully  characteristic  picture  worthy  of  the  best 
scenes  of  Ostrovsky.  His  last  large  paintings,  in 
which  he  turned  suddenly  to  Bryullov  and  commenced 
to  picturise  historical  anecdotes  on  a  huge  scale — have 
hitherto  remained  puzzling.  At  any  rate,  they  point 
to  the  lack  of  artistic  culture  in  the  master  and  the 
utter  confusion  in  his  views.  Feeling  the  desire  to 
bid  farewell  to  doctrinal  art,  Perov  found  no  other  way 
out  than  hackneyed  academicism. 

In  spite  of  all  his  failings,  Perov  is  the  most  promi- 
nent figure  among  the  artists  of  Alexander  IPs  reign. 
Side  by  side  with  him  and  a  few  years  after  his  death 
there  worked  several  interesting  masters,  almost  all 
of  them  collected  by  P.  M.  Tretyakov  in  his  Gallery. 

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Realism^  and  ^'Purpose''  Painting 

One  circumstance  welded  a  part  of  them  together  and 
shaped  them  into  that  nucleus  which  later  on  grew 
into  the  "Society  of  Wandering  Exhibitions."  This 
circumstance  is  known  in  the  history  of  Russian  art 
as  the  Secession  of  the  Thirteen  Contestants. 

At  that  time  the  central  figure  among  the  academic 
youth  was  I.  Kramskoy,  vigorous,  intelligent,  in- 
comparably more  mature  than  all  his  comrades.  He 
succeeded  in  grouping  around  himself  the  more  gifted 
Academy  students,  and  gradually  the  enthusiasm  of 
this  group  for  the  new  ideas,  which  at  first  was  rather 
encouraged  by  the  Academic  administration,  assumed 
the  more  conscious  and  concrete  character  of  a  "pro- 
gramme." The  smouldering  discontent  finally  broke 
out  into  an  open  conflict,  and  at  the  Academy  Com- 
mencement of  November  9,  1863,  thirteen  competi- 
tors for  golden  medals  refused  to  take  the  mytholog- 
ical theme  offered  by  the  Academy,  and,  having  failed 
to  obtain  freer  conditions  for  the  contest,  left  the 
Academy.  Finding  themselves  suddenly  in  the  gulf 
of  life,  the  recent  pupils  of  the  Academy  felt  the  ne- 
cessity of  uniting  their  forces,  and  they  founded  a  sort 
of  artists'  community,  which  they  called  "Artel" 
(Workmen's  Association). 

The  very  fact  of  the  secession  from  the  Academy  of 
a  group  of  young  and  bold  men  was  of  tremendous  im- 

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The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

portance.  They  sowed  the  seed  of  protest  against  a 
scholastic  formula  forced  upon  the  artists.  Hencefor- 
ward the  most  vigorous  and  independent  part  of  Rus- 
sian artistic  youth  will  cling  to  the  "Artel,"  feed  on 
its  theories,  if  not  actually  become  members,  and  be 
sustained  by  the  spiritual  firmness  which  was  gener- 
ated and  upheld  by  the  first  private  artistic  community 
in  Russia.  Later  on,  with  the  establishment  of  the 
"Society  of  Wandering  Exhibitions"  (in  1870)  the 
role  of  such  "headquarters"  of  the  most  advanced  Rus- 
sian art  passed  to  the  Society,  and  remained  there  for 
more  than  twenty  years,  until  the  appearance  of  the 
exhibitions  of  the  "Mir  Iskusstva"  ("The  World  of 
Art"). 

And  yet  the  most  prominent  of  our  preachers  and  de- 
nunciators in  art  was  an  artist  who  did  not  belong 
either  to  the  "Artel"  or  to  the  Society.  To  the  iso- 
lated figure  of  V.  V.  Vercshchagin  belongs  the  honour 
of  being,  after  Perov,  the  most  pronounced  representa- 
tive of  the  new  artistic  views. 

Vercshchagin  (1842-1904)  is  a  personality  very 
typical  of  the  sixties  and  seventies.  Unlike  most  of 
his  fellow-artists,  who  came  from  the  people  and  were 
cut  off  from  "society"  by  their  lack  of  breeding,  Ve- 
rcshchagin, by  his  origin,  education,  and  social  posi- 
tion, belonged  to  this  "society."    That  is  why  his  art 

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Realism^  and  ^''Purpose''  Painting 

was  more  conscious  and  influential,  and  his  preaching 
bolder,  more  concentrated,  and  sustained.  It  is  sig- 
nificant that  Vereshchagin  is  the  Russian  painter  who 
has  achieved  the  greatest  popularity  outside  of  his 
country.  He  treated  Russian  themes  from  the  view- 
point of  a  man  of  Western  culture — in  fact,  from  the 
viewpoint  of  a  citizen  of  the  world.  There  is  not  a 
trace  in  his  painting  of  naive  nationalism,  of  a  stub- 
born and  stupid  tendency  to  set  himself  apart  from  the 
rest  of  the  world,  characteristic  of  many  of  his  con- 
temporaries. Vereshchagin  was  a  typical  Russian  no- 
bleman, a  man  of  broad  views,  of  an  open  intellect,  of 
an  innate  nobility  of  intentions,  and  absolutely  alien 
to  petty  and  narrow  patriotism. 

Unfortunately,  this  aristocratic  trait  in  the  character 
of  Vereshchagin  loses  all  its  importance  as  soon  as  we 
turn  to  the  study  of  his  works.  And  this  is  very  charac- 
teristic of  the  Russian  painter.  Vereshchagin  was  a 
"European"  in  his  entire  programme,  in  all  his  proj- 
ects, but  as  far  as  execution  is  concerned  he  remained  a 
barbarian.  The  fact  that  he  belonged  to  the  upper 
class  did  not  save  him.  Naturally,  he  could  not  ac- 
quire correct  views  of  art  by  associating  with  people  of 
his  circle,  who,  as  a  rule  looked  upon  art  with  little 
more  than  contempt  and  perplexity.  Even  less  could 
he  gain  as  an  artist  by  associating  with  his  fellow- 

129 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

painters,  for  they  were  entirely  absorbed  in  social  prob- 
lems and  exhibited  an  absolute  indifference  to  matters 
of  purely  aesthetic  import.  True,  Vereshchagin  had 
the  good  fortune  of  coming  to  Europe  when  still  a 
young  man,  but  his  scant  preparation  at  home  made 
his  trip  little  instructive  for  him.  Mentzel,  Degas, 
Manet,  Monet,  and  many  other  masters,  overflowing 
with  vitality  and  vigour,  remained  absolutely  unin- 
telligible to  him,  though  he,  himself,  did  not  lack  either 
vitality  or  vigour. 

Herein  lies  the  cause  of  the  cheerless  impression 
which  Vereshchagin's  art  makes.  "What  is  bad  about 
him  is  not  the  fact  that  he  was  rather  an  ethnologist 
than  an  artist,  or  that  he  preached  absolute  sincerity 
and  told  in  his  pictures  what  he  saw  and  lived.  His 
main  defect  is  that  his  oeuvre  is  poor  in  purely  pic- 
torial merits.  This  artist  achieved  nothing  but  an  in- 
tellectual culture.  He  was  interested  in  ideas,  but  in- 
different to  form. 

Nevertheless,  Vereshchagin  will  hold  an  honourable 
place  in  the  history  of  Russian  art.  To  begin  with,  his 
pictures  have  not  lost  their  interest,  which  signifies 
that  they  conceal  a  great  power,  a  great  artistic  poten- 
tiality. It  is  true  that  they  are  poorly  painted  and 
childishly  drawn,  but  they  are  cleverly  planned  and 
their   composition   shows   Vereshchagin   as   a  highly 

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Realism^  and  '''Purpose''  Painting 

gifted  stage  manager.  This  is  a  matter  of  no  little 
importance  in  art.  But  even  in  the  purely  pictorial 
respect,  Vereshchagin,  despite  his  failings,  is  not  en- 
tirely valueless.  In  his  time  he  was  a  pioneer,  and 
many  of  his  light  and  colour  discoveries  have  retained 
their  value  until  our  own  day.  Some  of  his  Indian 
sketches  are  indeed  all  fire  and  glow,  and  some  of  his 
costume  studies  are  dazzling. 

Alongside  Vereshchagin  must  be  placed  I.  E.  Re- 
pin,  as  the  biggest  artist  of  the  generation  of  the 
seventies.  When  he  entered  the  Academy  Bruni  was 
still  its  director,  but,  in  reality,  Repin  was  the  most 
brilliant  pupil  and  follower  of  Kramskoy.  It  is  curi- 
ous that  Kramskoy,  in  his  artistic  endeavours,  kept 
aloof  from  the  movement  which  he  encouraged.  He 
was  too  intelligent  and  open-minded  to  devote  himself 
soul  and  body  to  the  naive  artistic  programme  of  his 
times.  But  he  was  fully  aware  of  the  relative  tem- 
porary importance  of  this  programme,  and  he  strove 
to  secure  the  assistance  of  all  those  who  could  be  of  use 
to  it.  It  is  with  particular  zeal  that  he  undertook  the 
education  or  re-education  of  these  recruits,  heedless  of 
the  damage  he  might  cause  by  forcing  on  them  a  nar- 
row aesthetic  formula. 

One  of  Kramskoy's  victims  was  Repin,  undoubt- 
edly a  splendid  talent,  vigorous  and  broad,  who,  never- 

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The  Russian  School  of  Paintmg 

theless,  spent  his  life  in  roving  over  tracks  which  lie 
far  from  the  true  aims  of  art. 

Repin  was  by  nature  a  painter.  He  came  in  the 
period  of  the  complete  decline  of  our  school  of  paint- 
ing, when  at  the  Academy  there  reigned  supreme  the 
precepts  of  Bruni,  excellent  in  themselves,  but  abso- 
lutely out  of  keeping  with  the  times;  when  the  rest  of 
the  artists,  following  the  example  of  Perov,  cast  away 
all  thought  of  painting  considered  as  such;  when  in 
our  higher  society  the  manneristic  and  mawkish  Zichy 
held  sway.  Under  such  circumstances  Repin  suc- 
ceeded in  creating  for  himself  an  original  and  power- 
ful manner,  and  in  developing  a  true  and  fresh  pal- 
ette. It  is  noteworthy  that  in  this  sphere  he  remained 
absolutely  independent  of  Kramskoy,  of  his  pedagog- 
ical pedantry  and  timid  copying  of  nature.  At  one 
stroke,  Repin  stepped  quite  aside,  and  reminded  us 
in  his  painting  of  the  old  masters,  who  knew  no  other 
school  than  assiduous  study  of  nature.  Unfortu- 
nately, Repin,  too,  has  been  kept  back  by  his  lack 
of  education.  Repin  tried  hard  to  educate  himself 
and  left  far  behind  him  the  churlish  apprentice  that 
he  was  when  he  first  came  from  Chuguyev  to  Petro- 
grad  in  1863.  Yet,  at  heart,  Repin  remained  a 
painter,  whose  attitude  toward  his  art  is  essentially 
unconscious.    Like  Vasnetzov,  he  went  beyond  the 

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Realism^  and  ''''Purpose''  Painting 

naive  conception  of  art,  but  he  has  never  yet  attained 
the  conscious,  cultural  attitude  toward  it.  The  mean- 
ing of  painting,  in  particular,  has  remained  for  him  a 
sealed  book.  All  his  life  he  has  been  applying 
his  splendid,  but  not  completely  developed  pictorial 
gift  to  the  solution  of  non-artistic  problems,  and,  of 
course,  neither  Stasov's  sermons,  sympathetic  in  their 
sincerity  as  they  are,  nor  the  influence  of  Kramskoy, 
absorbed  in  political  interests,  could  save  him  from  his 
errings. 

Nor  was  Repin  corrected  by  his  life  abroad,  where 
he  was  sent  by  the  Academy,  after  he  created  his  cele- 
brated "Burlaki"  ("Bargemen"),  a  work  of  great  en- 
ergy and  of  an  excellent  composition.  In  Rome  he 
criticised  into  nothingness  the  classics  of  paintings 
with  the  candour  of  a  barbarian,  and  in  Paris,  like  all 
his  compatriots,  he  became  completely  bewildered  and 
started  tossing  about,  unable  to  derive  anything  from 
sources  which  were  the  very  ones  to  be  of  great  use  to 
him.  Upon  his  return  home,  Repin  could  never 
quite  come  to  himself.  He  painted  all  the  prominent 
men  of  his  time,  created  a  series  of  denunciatory  pic- 
tures, on  subjects  taken  from  the  "nihilistic"  and 
"gendarme"  period;  finally  he  tried  his  hand  in  the  "his- 
torical variety,"  but  almost  never  did  he  concern  him- 
self with  the  problems  of  pure  painting.    Everywhere 

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The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

he  made  technique  and  colour  effects  subsidiary  to  ra- 
tional, non-artistic  considerations. 

Repin's  misfortune  lies  in  that,  having  become  a 
devotee  of  the  formula  of  narrative  painting,  he  also 
conceived  the  idea  that  he  possessed  a  powerful  dra- 
matic talent.  Of  course,  Repin  was  a  great  artist, 
and  as  such,  a  very  impressionable  man,  with  a  gift 
for  grasping  things  in  an  easy  and  interesting  manner. 
Yet,  his  calling  was  not  narrative  painting,  but  paint- 
ing pure  and  simple.  By  means  of  clever  calcula- 
tions, Repin  succeeded  in  arranging  his  pictures  so  as 
to  elicit  sensational  effects  of  great  clarity  (as  in  the 
"Church  Procession"),  or  a  truly  tragical  note  (in 
"Ivan  the  Terrible"),  or  a  broad  humour  (in  "The 
Zaporogian  Cossacks").  All  these  paintings  betray 
great  cleverness  and  dexterity,  but  there  is  no  truly 
deep  mood  in  them,  no  living  revelations  of  the  type 
we  find  in  Ivanov  and  in  Surikov. 

Repin's  best  work  are,  surely,  his  portraits.  But  a 
certain  coarseness  mars  even  these.  Repin  is  a  purely 
external  talent,  yet  in  his  portraits  he  tried  his  utmost 
to  go  into  the  depths  of  psychological  analysis.  Con- 
sequently, his  portraits  are  insipid  as  far  as  colour 
tones  and  composition  are  concerned;  they  are  drawn 
and  modelled  neglectfully,  carelessly  and  painted 
without  beauty;  and,  as  characterisation,  they  are  full 

134 


Realism^  and  ^''Purpose''  Painting 

of  gross  and  disagreeable  emphasis.  In  this  respect, 
they  are  far  below  the  intelligent  portraits  of  Gay,  and 
even  the  precise  portraits  of  Kramskoy. 

Perov,  Vereshchagin  and  Repin  are  the  main  bul- 
warks of  Russian  interpretative  Realism,  but  alongside 
these  there  worked  many  artists  of  similar  tendencies, 
whose  works  are  of  great  interest  for  the  history  of 
art,  and,  above  all,  for  the  history  of  Russian  culture. 
Especially  typical  representatives  of  Purpose  Paint- 
ing are  the  following:  the  stern  Savitzky,  the  con- 
scientious, dry  Maksimov,  and  Yaroshenko,  who  im- 
mortalised the  "nihilistic"  youth  of  the  seventies  and 
eighties.  Less  powerful,  but  nevertheless  typical 
works  were  produced  by  Shmelkov  (1819-1890),  by 
Korzukhin  (1835-1894),  Lemokh,  Morozov  and 
Zhuravlev  (1836-1901),  members  of  the  group  of 
"Thirteen  Competitors,"  who  seceded  in  1863;  also 
Zagorsky,  Scadovsky,  Popov,  Solomatkin,  M.  P.  Klodt 
and  others.  Finally,  Bogdanov-Byelsky,  Baksheyev, 
and  Kasatkin  are  "the  epigoni"  of  the  movement,  who 
keep  on  until  this  very  day  playing  the  tunes  of  the  ar- 
tistic programme  of  the  sixties. 

Among  the  epigones  must  be  reckoned  also  Vladimir 
Makovsky  (born  in  1846),  although  he  is  only  two 
years  younger  than  Repin.  Makovsky  has  all  the 
characteristic  traits  of  an  epigone.    His  art  has  neither 

135 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

the  concentrated  strictness  of  Perov,  nor  the  cheerful 
convincing  power  of  Savitzky  or  Yaroshenko,  nor  the 
mighty  artistic  temperament  of  Repin.  Vladimir 
Makovsky,  among  all  his  surly,  even  gloomy  and 
thoughtful  fellow-painters,  is  the  "jester,"  having  al- 
ways a  smile  on  his  face,  ever  tipping  the  wink  at  the 
spectator  to  make  him  laugh.  But  Makovsky's  laugh- 
ter is  neither  Fedotov's  broad,  hearty  laughter,  nor 
Perov's  malicious  grin.  Makovsky's  witticisms  are 
those  of  a  self-loving  man,  who  deems  it  his  duty  to 
tickle  the  public  and  tries  hard  to  attract  people's  at- 
tention even  at  moments  when  everybody  is  absorbed 
by  a  common  heavy  sorrow.  Strange  to  say,  this  pe- 
culiarity of  Makovsky's  art  became  clear  only  gradu- 
ally, and  there  was  a  time  when  he  was  considered 
just  as  full-fledged  a  champion  of  the  "serious  current" 
as  Perov,  Repin  or  Savitzky.  Technically,  Vladimir 
Makovsky  was  superior  to  many  of  his  comrades,  at 
least  in  the  best  period  of  his  activity.  Only  later  on, 
his  colour  gamut  grew  heavy  and  disagreeable,  and  the 
painting  timid.  The  paintings:  "The  Lovers  of 
Nightingales'  Singing"  (1874),  "The  Bank  Failure" 
(1881),  "The  Acquitted"  (1882),  "The  Family  Af- 
fair" (1884),  and  a  few  of  his  portraits  belong  pic- 
torially  to  the  most  perfect  works  of  the  "Wanderers." 
They  possess  a  certain  dexterity  of  brush  and  a  pic- 

136 


Realism^  a7id  ''''Purpose^''  Painting 

torial  workmanship,  which  are  not  to  be  found  in  the 
works  of  Savitzky  or  Yaroshenko. 

One  more  painter  of  the  realistic  school  deserves 
special  consideration.  This  is  Pryanishnikov  (1840— 
1894) ,  His  first  canvas  "The  Bazaar,"  painted  a  year 
after  Perov  left  for  the  West  is  alongside  "The  Church 
Procession"  and  "The  Arrival  of  the  Governess"  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  pictures  of  the  sixties.  Prya- 
nishnikov is,  however,  even  more  interesting,  because 
in  course  of  time  he  strove  to  free  himself  from  the  fet- 
ters of  purpose  painting,  and  was  one  of  the  first  to 
seek  new  paths.  True,  "Our  Saviour's  Day  in  the  Coun- 
try" (1887)  strongly  reminds  one  of  a  photograph  and 
is  far  from  being  model  painting,  but  it  was  important, 
that  while  Repin  was  busy  with  his  version  of  the 
"Church  Procession,"  while  Vladimir  Makovsky  kept 
on  telling  his  flat  anecdotes,  and  all  the  rest  endeav- 
oured to  paint  something  "useful,"  Pryanishnikov  sud- 
denly threw  away  all  intentions  to  instruct,  narrate,  or 
force  his  thoughts  on  people,  and  turned  to  the  depic- 
tion of  reality.  At  that  time  this  was  a  bold  innova- 
tion, but  before  a  decade  had  passed  pure  realism  be- 
came the  motto  of  the  entire  young  Russian  art. 


137 


CHAPTER  VI 

HISTORY   AND    FAIRY-TALE 

ONE  of  the  peculiar  traits  of  Russian  Realism 
was  that  the  boldest  and  most  resolute  fol- 
lowers of  an  art  based  on  the  study  of  the 
surrounding  world  very  willingly  abandoned  this 
reality  and  turned  to  history,  that  is  to  a  domain  where 
the  immediate  connection  with  actuality  is,  naturally, 
lost.  Courbet,  Monet,  Degas  did  not  attempt  histor- 
ical painting,  and  it  is  even  hard  to  picture  how  artists, 
so  passionately  enamoured  of  living  life  could  seek  for 
inspiration  in  the  graveyards  of  the  ages.  True,  Ment- 
zel  proved  that  a  realistic  artist  could  live  at  once  in 
two  epochs,  and  be  equally  successful  in  his  portrayal 
of  both  the  past  and  the  present.  But  Mentzel  is  an 
exception,  the  most  remarkable  exception  in  the  whole 
history  of  art.  The  Pre-Raphaelites  cannot  prove  the 
compatibility  of  realism  and  history  either,  because  his- 
tory in  their  art  was  not  a  digression  from  the  intended 
course,  but  rather  the  point  of  departure.  Late  off- 
shoots of  Romanticism,  they  grew  up  on  historical 
painting.    This  they  first  refreshed  bv  the  introduc- 

138 


History  and  Fairy-Tale 

tion  of  realism,  but  later  on  they  gradually  rejected 
the  latter  and  made  their  way  either  to  actuality  or  to 
free  idealism. 

Matters  were  different  in  Russia.  Here,  the  evolu- 
tion of  the  foremost  artists  went  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion, or,  rather,  their  course  consisted  of  confused  di- 
gressions and  inconsistencies.  Perov  and  Vereshcha- 
gin  did  not  begin  with  historical  painting;  they  came 
to  it  only  toward  the  end  of  their  careers.  Repin  did 
not  show  in  his  academic  years  any  serious  disposition 
toward  historical  painting — the  scholastic  themes, 
forced  upon  him,  are,  of  course,  out  of  consideration. 
He  began  to  treat  historical  subjects  after  the  creation 
of  his  realistic  pictures,  or  simultaneously.  The  same 
inconsistencies  can  be  observed  in  the  art  of  Gay  and 
Kramskoy,  and  the  cause  of  it  is  to  be  sought  not  in 
some  peculiar  "freedom"  of  the  Russian  artists,  nor 
in  the  breadth  of  their  views,  but  rather  in  the  amor- 
phous state  of  their  theoretical  outlook  on  life  and  in 
their  subjection  to  the  temporary  interests  of  society. 
Many  have  seen  in  the  ease  with  which  Repin  passed 
from  nihilists  and  peasants  to  brocade  vestments,  to 
the  wonderland  of  the  sea,  or  to  the  depiction  of  Saint 
Nicholas  and  the  "Third  Temptation,"  simply  the  ef- 
fect of  his  vivid  temperament,  impressionability,  and 
impulsiveness.    But  it  seems  to  us  that  these  fits  and 

139 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

starts  can  be  more  properly  explained  by  a  certain 
"confusion"  of  which  the  artist  was  possessed. 

Only  two  of  Repin's  historical  paintings  are  not 
covered  by  this  general  characteristic:  these  are  the 
"Ivan  the  Terrible  and  his  Son"  and  the  "Zaporogian 
Cossacks."  However,  neither  of  these  pictures  can, 
with  any  truth,  be  considered  "historical."  On  the 
other  hand,  "human  interest"  is  not  the  main  element 
of  the  first  canvas.  It  is  true  that  this  time  Repin 
succeeded  in  raising  the  expression  of  pathos  to  the 
degree  of  genuine  horror.  Yet  the  dominating  ele- 
ments here  are  the  colours  and  the  painting.  Swept 
away  by  his  subject,  Repin  executed  his  picture  with 
a  fire,  with  a  mastery  of  brush  and  colour,  which  are 
not  to  be  found  in  his  other  works.  Similarly,  the 
theme  of  the  "Cossacks,"  the  story  of  how  the  Zapo- 
rogian Cossacks  sent  a  jeering  reply  to  the  Sultan,  has 
an  interest  for  us  inasmuch  as  it  suggested  his  paint- 
ing to  Repin.  One  can  fully  enjoy  this  work  with- 
out going  to  the  catalogue  for  information.  What  the 
particular  cause  of  the  Cossacks'  merriment  may  be,  is 
of  no  importance  whatever.  It  is  not  the  past  that 
Repin  depicted  this  time.  He  is  a  Cossack  himself, 
and  he  has  observed  similar  scenes  from  his  very  child- 
hood. He  had  only  to  gather  together  his  impressions 
into  one  ensemble  and  make  sketches  from  nature. 

140 


IVAN    THE    TERRIBLE    ANIJ    HIS    bOiN 


ll\  u  Rip  III 


History  and  Fairy -Tale 

Repin's  weak  point,  his  inability  to  present  famous 
historical  persons  and  to  render  the  flavour  of  the 
epoch — as  betrayed  by  his  "Sofya,"  "Don  Juan"  or 
"St.  Nicholas" — had  no  occasion  to  show  itself  here. 
In  the  "Cossacks"  everything  was  dictated  by  reality. 
A  few  historical  details  are  made  use  of  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  intensifying  the  colour  effects. 

Repin's  historical  paintings  were,  we  repeat,  incon- 
sistent digressions  in  his  art.  This  remark  may  be 
properly  applied  to  Perov's  historical  canvases,  to  the 
works  of  Jacobi,  Vereshchagin,  and  Kramskoy,  and, 
finally,  even  to  such  pictures  of  Gay  as  "Catherine  II 
at  the  Bier  of  Queen  Elizabeth,"  or  his  "Pushkin." 
All  these  facts  point  to  the  conclusion  that  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  art  of  the  sixties  lacked  firm  founda- 
tion. But  as  early  as  the  seventies  alongside  these  ar- 
tistic phenomena,  another  current  made  its  appearance 
in  Russian  painting.  Although  it,  too,  chose  history 
as  its  subject,  it  was  based  on  different  principles.  It 
is  by  way  of  historical  painting  that  Russian  art  passed 
from  narrow,  doctrinal  realism  to  free  creative  ef- 
forts. Of  course,  the  pictures  of  Repin,  Polyenov 
and  even  those  of  K.  Makovsky  may  be  looked  upon 
as  signs  of  this  evolution.  But  the  art  of  these 
painters  presents  only  faint  reflections:  other  masters 
were  to  give  genuine  expression  to  the  new  spirit. 

141 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

The  father  of  specifically  "national"  historical 
painting  in  Russia  was  V.  Schwarz  ( 1838-1869) .  He 
was  the  first  to  revolt  against  the  tradition  represented 
by  "The  Siege  of  Pskov"  and  to  strive  to  lift  the  veil 
which  separates  us  from  old  Russia.  Therein  lies  his 
great  merit.  But  Schwarz  was  far  from  being  a  great 
artist.  To  him  belongs  the  honour  of  having  made 
numerous  discoveries  in  the  field  of  costume,  furni- 
ture, manners,  and  general  appearance  of  old  Russia, 
but  he  lacked  the  necessary  power  to  animate  all  this, 
to  give  convincing  and  vivid  pictures  of  the  past. 
Schwarz  was  a  conscientious,  attentive  dilettante,  who 
passionately  loved  his  work.  But  he  had  neither  a 
genuine  pictorial  gift,  nor  a  real  artistic  temperament, 
nor  a  sufficient  fund  of  technical  knowledge. 

But  Schwarz  broke  the  road,  and  he  was  followed  by 
more  powerful  masters.  The  foremost  among  these  is 
Surikov  (born  in  1848),^  whose  importance  is  not  con- 
fined to  historical  painting.  Surikov's  mighty  gift 
dealt  the  most  crushing  blow  to  the  art  of  his  colleagues, 
the  "Wanderers."  He  showed  how  fascinating  and 
significant  is  the  sheer  beauty  of  terrible  events,  as 
compared  with  any  moralising  interpretation  forced 
upon  them.    He  was  the  first  to  break  off  with  the 

^  Died  in  1916.     (Translator's  note.) 

142 


History  and  Fairy-Tale 

sentimentally  humanitarian  ideals  of  the  sixties,  which 
were  so  alien  to  the  true  problems  of  art. 

We  are  not  inclined  to  overlook  the  merits  of  the 
"idealistic  realism"  of  Gay  and  Kramskoy,  nor  do  we 
deny  that  Repin  played  an  important  part  in  the 
struggle  with  and  the  final  defeat  of  the  art  of  the  six- 
ties. Then,  too,  the  change  from  painting  subservient 
to  social  interests  to  a  freer  art  did  not  occur  without 
the  influence  of  external  circumstances,  such  as  the 
political  reaction  under  Alexander  III,  which  stifled 
the  progressive  propaganda.  But  none  of  these  fac- 
tors was  more  significant  or  was  of  a  more  far-reaching 
influence  than  Surikov's  pictures.  They  made  the 
same  stirring  impression  on  our  painters  as  Dostoyev- 
sky  and  Tolstoy  did  in  literature.  It  was  as  though 
the  door  was  flung  open,  and  fresh  air  rushed  in. 

We  are  not  going  to  analyse  Surikov's  works.  The 
depth  of  their  tragical  mood,  their  purely  aesthetic  im- 
port, their  freedom,  their  convincing  power,  their  his- 
torical value  are  sufficiently  known.  Nor  is  it  proper  to 
repeat  here  what  we  have  pointed  out  several  times: 
the  "superb  ugliness"  of  his  execution,  the  "beautiful 
muddiness"  of  his  colours,  the  passionate,  unsystematic 
technique  of  his  painting,  which  upsets  all  traditions. 
It  is  more  important  here,  it  seems  to  us,  to  indicate 

H3 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

Surikov's  place  in  the  general  evolution  of  our  paint- 
ing. We  have  just  pointed  out  the  part  played  by  him 
in  the  evolution  from  doctrinal  realism  to  pure  real- 
ism and  to  idealistic  painting.  It  is  proper  to  deter- 
mine here  also  his  technical  influence  proper.  Surikov 
is  to  be  credited  with  a  distinctive,  purely — Russian, 
colour  gamut,  which  was  made  use  of  by  Repin  and 
Vasnetzov,  and  the  traces  of  which  are  felt  in  the 
"gloomy"  palette  of  Levitan,  Korovin,  Syerov,  and  all 
the  young  Moscow  masters.  He  was  also  the  first  to 
discover  the  strange  beauty  of  the  old-Russian  colour- 
ing, and  of  the  real  Russian  decorative  "style,"  so  dis- 
tinctive in  its  studied  grotesqueness.  These  dis- 
coveries of  his  were  utilised  by  the  two  Vasnetzovs, 
SoUogub,  Polyenov,  Malyutin,  Ryabushkin  and  S. 
Ivanov.  Finally,  as  early  as  1882,  in  his  "Menshi- 
kov,"  Surikov  found  a  wholly  distinct  type  of  feminine 
beauty — one  of  unutterable  sadness  and  deep  sen- 
suous charm,  which  was  utilised  by  Vasnetzov  an  infi- 
nite number  of  times,  and  changed  by  Nesterov  into 
something  nauseatingly  sentimental.  In  the  eighties 
and  nineties  all  of  Moscow  idolised  Surikov,  and  it  is 
natural,  therefore,  that  echoes  of  his  ideas,  colours, 
forms  and  compositions  are  found  in  the  works  of  art- 
ists who  are  furthest  removed  from  him  in  their  gen- 
eral tendency. 

144 


History  and  Fairy-Tale 

Very  close  to  Surikov  are  three  prominent  contem- 
porary Russian  artists.  To  our  regret,  Ryabushkin, 
the  most  gifted  and  interesting  of  them,  is  already 
dead.  Taking  Surikov  as  a  point  of  departure,  Rya- 
bushkin found  a  sphere  of  his  own.  He  was  taken  up 
with  the  everyday  life  of  the  past,  rather  than  with  its 
grandiose  tragedies.  It  was  as  if  he  saw  all  these 
scenes  of  the  past  in  reality,  as  if  he  strolled,  in  person, 
along  all  these  remote  nooks,  and  entered  the  attics 
of  the  old  palaces,  and  all  the  curious  and  picturesque 
details  he  saw  there  remained  fixed  in  his  memory. 
There  is  not  a  trace  in  him  of  a  desire  to  embellish  his 
subjects.  Plainly  and  without  ceremony,  like  an  eye- 
witness, he  renders  all  the  homespun  spruceness,  all 
the  simple-hearted  snobbishness  of  the  times  of  yore. 
Ryabushkin  did  not  strive  to  produce  poetical  impres- 
sions, yet  a  great  poetical  charm  lives  in  his  works.  It 
is  the  fascination  of  ancient  diaries,  of  antique  objects 
and  rooms,  and  of  all  that  brings  in  its  train  the  very 
fragrance  of  bygone  days. 

Two  other  artists,  S.  Ivanov  and  Apollinarius  Vas- 
netzov,  fell  under  Surikov's  influence,  and  chose  old 
Russia  as  their  field.  They  are  very  attractive,  though 
less  significant  masters,  of  less  decided  temperament 
and  originality.  Ivanov  approaches  Surikov  pretty 
closely  in  his  efforts  to  lend  his  composition  an  unex- 

145 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

pected  turn,  as  well  as  in  his  colour  combinations  and 
in  his  choice  of  costumes  and  details;  but  he  absolutely 
lacks  dramatic  gift,  and  the  episodical  character  of  his 
pictures  deprives  them  of  all  historical  significance. 

Apollinarius  Vasnetzov  started  with  Siberian  land- 
scapes, broadly  conceived  and  strong  in  colour.  Later 
on  he  became  wholly  absorbed  in  artistic  reconstruc- 
tions of  old  Moscow,  which  had  great  success  among 
Moscowites,  who,  as  a  rule,  are  ardent  worshippers  of 
their  ancient  city.  But,  in  reality,  Vasnetzov  only 
developed  that  which  Surikov  had  given  in  the  land- 
scape backgrounds  of  his  pictures.  To  this  Vasnetzov 
added  successful  borrowings  from  more  original  paint- 
ers, such  as  Miss  Helen  Polyenov,  Korovin,  Malyutin. 
There  is  one  thing  for  which  Vasnetzov  must  be  re- 
proved: he  somewhat  overdoes  the  grotesqueness 
which  he  considers  the  most  characteristic  feature  of 
mediffival  Moscow.  His  composition  often  reminds 
one  of  stage  decorations,  on  which  too  many  details 
are  crowded  closely  together. 

Here  we  must  again  mention  the  name  of  Victor 
Vasnetzov,  for  it  is  beyond  doubt  that  to  him,  together 
with  Surikov,  belongs  the  honour  of  having  first  pro- 
tested against  the  narrow  realism  of  the  "Wanderers" 
and  made  the  initial  steps  toward  a  freer  art.  True, 
in  comparison  with  Surikov  the  art  of  Victor  Vasnetzov 

146 


History  and  Fairy-Tale 

may  appear  flabby  and  ineffective.  But,  in  the  first 
place,  this  does  not  apply  to  the  whole  of  his  output; 
and,  secondly,  in  the  evolution  of  art  the  most  power- 
ful works  are  not  always  those  which  are  most  signifi- 
cant. On  the  contrary,  faint  hints  sometimes  engender 
revolutions,  and  if  Vasnetzov  did  not  revolutionise 
Russian  painting,  he  undoubtedly  planted  in  it  seeds 
which  gave,  and  are  still  giving  numerous  sprouts. 

This  time  we  have  in  mind  the  "fairy-tale"  and  his- 
torical pictures  of  the  master,  on  which  we  only  touched 
in  the  analysis  of  his  religious  paintings.  The  former 
played  a  quite  important  part  in  the  development  of 
Russian  art.  V.  Vasnetzov  gave  new  motives  and 
themes,  he  familiarised  us  with  the  Old-Russian  forms 
and  colours.  It  was  he  who  popularised  the  old  Rus- 
sian "fairy-tale,"  and  Helen  Polyenov,  Mary  Yakun- 
chikov,  Golovin,  and  Malyutin,  the  most  prominent 
Russian  "fairy-tale"  painters  of  the  nineties,  are  un- 
doubtedly indebted  to  him.  Apart  from  them,  and,  es- 
pecially, from  V.  Vasnetzov,  stood  only  one  artist, 
Vrubel.  He  had  no  need  to  recur  to  the  narrow  me- 
dium of  Old-Russian  forms  for  the  expression  of  the 
fairy-tales,  born  of  his  spirit.  A  vigorous,  broad, 
true  genius,  he  drew  his  inspiration  from  everywhere 
and  lent  everything  a  splendour  that  was  his  own. 
Vasnetzov  created  a  school  of  more  or  less  close  imi- 

147 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

tators;  Vrubel  created  no  school,  for  his  art  was  too 
original  and  complex.  But  Vrubel  alone  is  worth  an 
entire  school.  He  was  the  sole  true  and  beautiful 
idealist  of  the  later  period  of  Russian  art. 

V.  Vasnetzov's  most  remarkable  paintings  are  his: 
"Stone  Age,"  "Ivan  the  Terrible,"  "The  Bogatyrs" 
(Heroes) ,  and  "Alenushka."  In  these,  the  master  rose 
to  a  considerable  height;  he  freed  himself  from  dilet- 
tante-like mawkishness,  and  exhibited  a  fine  workman- 
ship, which  is  difficult  to  find  in  his  other  pictures.  This 
is  especially  true  of  "Alenushka."  There  is  music  in 
this  picture:  soft  sobbing  and  tender,  sad  song.  The 
landscape  is  replete  with  the  mysteriousness  of  loneli- 
ness and  all  the  fascination  of  deep  forests,  of  marsh 
pools,  and  of  a  grey,  pensive  day.  This  picture  shows 
that  Vasnetzov  housed  the  soul  of  a  true  artist,  which 
could  not  come  to  expression  and  unfold  itself  owing 
to  various  circumstances,  such  as  defective  schooling, 
an  insufficient  understanding  of  the  problems  of  art, 
orders  unsuited  to  his  talent,  the  success  of  his  worst 
pictures,  and  an  infatuation  with  false  nationalistic 
ideas.  Not  possessing  the  strong  character  and  the 
gift  of  complete  isolation,  which  were  Surikov's  shield, 
V.  Vasnetzov  was  all  his  life  swayed  by  various  influ- 
ences, and  herein  lies  the  cause  of  the  Incompleteness 
of  his  art  and  of  all  its  disagreeable  defects. 

148 


History  a7id  Fairy-Tale 

Vasnetzov's  ideas  were  utilised  not  only  by  the  offi- 
cial world,  which  saw  in  him  the  awaited  "truly  Rus- 
sian" national  artist,  but  also  by  all  that  was  vigor- 
ous and  young  in  Russian  art.  The  gauntlet  was 
thrown  down  to  "purpose"  painting  and  Realism. 
The  slogan  of  these  protestants  was  the  cult  of  Old- 
Russian  culture,  a  somewhat  Slavophile  slogan,  di- 
rectly opposed  to  the  school  of  the  sixties,  with  its  sym- 
pathies for  the  Westerners — and  soon  Vasnetzov  was 
followed  by  a  number  of  painters  who  in  their  art  left 
far  behind  them  the  propaganda  of  typical  "Wander- 
ers." The  fir-trees  in  "Alenushka,"  Savrasov's 
"Spring,"  and  Surikov's  landscape  backgrounds  re- 
sulted in  Levitan;  and  Vasnetzov's  "Snyegurochka" 
(1884)  inaugurated  our  "fairy-tale"  painting  and  led 
to  the  Moscow  revival  of  our  decorative  art  in  the 
works  of  Miss  Polyenov,  Malyutin,  Golovin,  and  oth- 
ers. Though  this  movement  has  not  given  us  a  single 
truly  great  artist,  though  it  is  essentially  little  more 
than  impracticable  dilettanteism,  nevertheless,  as  a 
page  of  the  history  of  our  culture,  it  undoubtedly  pos- 
sesses a  great  interest. 


149 


CHAPTER  VII 

LANDSCAPE  AND  FREE  REALISM 

WE  have  seen  that  at  the  beginning  of  the 
nineteenth  century  Russian  landscape  was 
already  in  existence  as  an  independent 
branch  of  painting,  which  had  several  remarkable  rep- 
resentatives in  the  past  and  which  promised  further 
development.  The  evolution  of  Russian  landscape 
followed  two  paths.  One  was  the  continuation  of  that 
somewhat  official  art  of  Alexeyev,  Ivanov,  and  other 
artists  who  pursued  definite  "topographical"  aims;  the 
other  was  of  a  more  intimate  and  poetical  character. 
The  main  phases  of  the  first  current  have  been  men- 
tioned above,  M.  Vorobyov,  Alexeyev's  pupil,  was 
the  fountain-head  of  a  school,  which  gave  the  numer- 
ous "parlour"  artists,  who  painted  mawkishly  exqui- 
site studies  of  places  remarkable  for  their  picturesque- 
ness  or  historical  associations.  It  is  noteworthy,  that 
earlier  in  the  century  these  landscape  painters  showed 
a  more  rigorous  attitude  toward  their  work,  and, 
therefore,  their  paintings  are  valuable  as  topography, 
if  in  no  other  respect.    Such  are,  for  example,  the 

150 


Landscape  and  Free  Realism 

works  of  the  brothers  Chernetzov  and  Rabus.  On  the 
contrary,  in  its  subsequent  development,  this  current 
acquired  a  manneristic  and  superficial  character,  as  evi- 
denced in  the  works  of  S.  Vorobyov,  Bogolyubov,  and 
Lagorio.  The  second  current  of  our  landscape  paint- 
ing presents  from  the  purely  artistic  standpoint  an  in- 
comparably greater  interest.  Its  significance  kept  on 
growing  gradually  until  toward  the  beginning  of  the 
nineties  of  the  past  century  it  assumed  a  domineering 
position  in  Russian  painting. 

M.  N.  Vorobyov  himself  occupies  a  middle  position, 
like  his  teacher  Galaktionov,  and  Semyon  Shchedrin. 
He  painted  views  of  Petrograd,  full  of  charming 
poetry,  but  together  with  these  he  produced  a  great 
mass  of  dry  topographical  "surveys."  In  his  Palestine 
pictures  he  is  the  father  of  a  long  succession  of  painter- 
tourists,  who  spent  their  lives  in  sketching,  in  a  super- 
ficial and  hackneyed  manner,  all  the  notable  places  of 
the  globe. 

The  art  of  Silvester  Shchedrin  (1791-1830)  differs 
little  from  the  landscape  painting  of  his  time.  Neither 
a  poet  at  heart,  nor  an  ardent  romanticist,  he  was  noth- 
ing more  than  a  "view-painter,"  who  copied  beautiful 
sites.  Only  his  early  Petrograd  pictures  approxi- 
mated, in  their  poetical  conception,  the  paintings  of 
his  uncle  Semyon  and  of  his  comrade,  M.  Vorobyov. 

151 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

In  Rome  he  contented  himself  with  copying  celebrated 
views  and  interesting  historical  monuments,  without 
endeavouring  to  give  expression  to  any  mood  whatever. 
Nevertheless,  there  is  an  abyss  between  Silvester 
Shchedrin  and  the  rest  of  Russian  landscape  painters 
of  the  times,  an  abyss  which  separates  a  true  pictorial 
gift  from  sheer  diligence  and  an  acquired  manner. 

Silvester  Shchedrin,  one  of  the  first  Russian  masters, 
is  just  as  truly  a  classic  of  Russian  painting  as  Levit- 
zky,  Kiprensky,  Venetzianov,  BryuUov,  and  Bruni. 
He  is  a  true  painter  by  the  grace  of  God,  who  knew 
the  fervour  of  inspiration  and  who  possessed  a  work- 
manship which  is  not  taught  in  any  Academy.  Neither 
Alexeyev,  nor  Semyon  Shchedrin  can  be  looked  upon  as 
his  guides;  if  he  is  indebted  to  anybody  for  his  tech- 
nical development,  it  is  to  the  seventeenth  century 
Dutch:  to  Berchem,  Peinaker,  Both,  and  I.  B.  Vinix, 
who  alone  could  teach  him  that  softness  of  the  brush, 
that  sharpness  of  drawing,  that  airiness  and  beauty  of 
colours,  which  assure  Silvester  Shchedrin  the  foremost 
place  in  the  European  landscape  painting  of  his  time. 
Unfortunately,  death  took  him  away  prematurely,  and 
his  last,  unfinished  pictures,  where  there  is  no  trace  of 
his  original  dryness  and  timidity,  permit  us  to  sur- 
mise, into  how  great  a  master  he  could  have  grown. 

Fate  was  even  more  pitiless  to  the  next  great  Russian 

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Landscape  and  Free  Realism 

landscape  painter,  M.  Lebedev,  who  died  (in  1836)  at 
the  age  of  twenty-four.  Elsewhere  we  set  too  high  a 
value  on  his  early  endeavours,  which  betray  the  "pro- 
vincial" helplessness  of  Russian  technical  preparation, 
the  influence  of  bad  models,  and  the  pursuit  of  false 
refinement — all  qualities  natural  in  a  young  artist. 
In  Rome,  however,  where  Lebedev  did  not  find  Shche- 
drin,  but  where  he  was  fortunate  enough  to  meet 
Ivanov,  the  artist  rapidly  freed  himself  from  his  "Pet- 
rograd"  defects  and  began  to  create  works  which  dis- 
play a  deep  knowledge  of  nature  and  lay  bare  the  deli- 
cate musical  soul  of  the  painter.  Only  some  details 
of  his  later  pictures  bear  the  imprint  of  the  bad  taste 
of  his  Russian  instructors.  But  the  general  effect  of 
his  paintings,  their  mellow,  almost  "savoury"  colours, 
their  consummate  technique  point  toward  an  amazing 
firmness  of  intention  and  a  great  artistic  gift.  To 
judge  by  some  peculiarities  of  his  manner,  such  as  is 
exhibited  in  his  works  of  the  thirties,  we  may  lament 
in  him  the  loss  of  a  Russian  Corot  or  Rousseau. 

The  further  development  of  Russian  landscape 
painting  until  the  seventies  is  not  rich  in  great  and  re- 
markable masters.  Bits  of  good  landscape  back- 
grounds we  can  find  in  the  canvases  of  our  great  paint- 
ers, such  as  Venetzianov  and  Bryullov;  Ivanov  and 
Count  Gagarin  have  excellent  studies  from  nature; 

1^3 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

and  among  Sternberg's  pretentious  productions  we 
meet,  now  and  then,  with  modest  sketches  from  nature, 
which  approach  Lebedev  and  the  later  paintings  of  F. 
Vasilyev.  But,  with  the  exception  of  Peter  Sokolov, 
who  stands  alone,  we  do  not  find  a  single  great  inde- 
pendent landscape  painter,  who  can  even  faintly  re- 
mind us  of  the  conquests  of  realism  in  the  field  of  land- 
scape, which,  at  that  time,  were  achieved  in  France,  and 
which  came  to  expression  in  the  art  of  the  "Barbizon 
School."  The  most  interesting  figure  among  the  Rus- 
sian landscape  painters  of  the  forties  and  fifties  is 
Ayvazovsky,  who  was  swayed  by  a  Romantic  spirit 
stronger  than  his  fellow-artists,  and  who  is  favourably 
distinguished  from  his  moderate  and  reasonable  com- 
rades by  his  passion  for  the  sea.  But  even  Ayvazovsky 
does  not  stand  comparison  with  the  West.  He  is  only 
a  poor  copy  from  such  magnificent  connoisseurs  of  the 
sea  as  Gudin,  and  Louis  Isabey.  As  to  his  "grandiose 
conceptions"  they  repeat  the  setting  and  the  style  of 
Turner's  follower,  John  Martin,  who  was  one  of  the 
favourite  painters  of  the  Romantic  epoch. 

The  triumphs  of  Realism  in  the  fifties  and  sixties 
found  their  expression  also  in  landscape  art.  Two 
painters  were  the  pioneers  of  Russian  realistic  land- 
scape: Baron  M.  K.  Klodt,  and  Shishkin.  This  does 
not  mean,  however,  that  the  merits  of  other  artists  must 

154 


Landscape  and  Free  Realism . 

be  ignored.  Something  has  been  done  for  the 
"achievement  of  truth"  in  Russian  landscape  by  man- 
neristic,  but  skilful  masters  like  Bogolyubov,  Lagorio, 
and  Hun/ 

Baron  M.  K.  Klodt  (1832-1902)  can  hardly,  how- 
ever, without  restriction  be  considered  a  pioneer  of 
Realism.  It  is  characteristic,  both  of  his  personality 
and  his  time  that,  like  Perov,  he  had  not  the  patience 
to  stay  abroad  until  the  end  of  the  time  allowed  him, 
and  obtained  permission  from  the  authorities  to  return 
home  for  the  purpose  of  devoting  himself  to  the  study 
of  Russian  nature.  This  study  resulted  only  in  a  few 
pictures,  poetically  conceived,  but  very  dryly  executed. 
Most  of  his  works  are  nothing  but  dry,  sentimental 
landscapes,  full  of  studied  arrangement,  such  as  Diis- 
seldorf  and  Miinchen  manufactured  by  thousands  at 
that  time.  In  most  of  his  paintings,  only  the  "izbas" 
(cottages) ,  hurdles,  and  the  costumes  of  the  figures  be- 
tray their  Russian  origin. 

The  figure  of  Shishkin  (1831-1898)  is  more  pro- 
nounced. Unfortunately,  this  artist,  by  nature  ener- 
getic and  wonderfully  diligent,  did  not  have  the  ad- 
vantage of  a  "school,"  which  would  have  made  of  him 
a  real  master  of  painting  and  would  have  opened  his 

^  The  latter  is  better  known  by  his  ineffective  historical  paintings  which 
smell  of  the  "costume  class,"  and  by  his  sentimental  "genre"  pictures. 
(Author's  note.) 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

eyes  to  the  advanced  roads  of  contemporary  art. 
Abroad,  Shishkin  went  to  school  to  the  timid  and  feeble 
representatives  of  German  landscape  painting,  and 
failed  to  appreciate  both  the  school  of  Barbizon  mas- 
ters— which  at  that  time  had  reached  its  full  develop- 
ment— and  the  new-born  Impressionism.  He  brought 
from  Germany  the  painful  and  dry  orderliness  of  his 
landscape  plans,  his  cheerless  colouring,  as  well  as  his 
proneness  to  "compose"  motives,  found  in  nature,  into 
"pictures."  It  is  hardly  to  be  doubted,  however,  that 
his  conscientious  sketches  and  precise,  firm  pencil 
drawings  have  greatly  furthered  the  education  of  the 
Russian  painters'  eye  and  taught  them  to  see  the  na- 
ture of  their  native  country. 

Several  painters  of  the  seventies  made  considerable 
progress  in  the  direction  of  a  more  original  and  poetical 
conception  of  landscape.  The  most  extraordinary  fig- 
ure among  them  is  Savrasov.  He  produced  practically 
only  one  picture :  his  famous  "The  Rooks  Have  Come," 
but  this  first  Russian  "spring"  picture  came  as  a  sym- 
bol, so  to  speak,  of  the  entire  regeneration  of  Russian 
painting.  There  is  felt  in  this  picture  the  fragrance 
of  that  soft  poetry  which  blossoms  forth  in  the  wonder- 
ful "poems  in  colour"  of  Levitan,  Syerov,  and  Koro- 
vin. 

The  art  of  Fyodor  Vasilyev    (1850-1873)   has  re- 

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Landscape  and  Free  Realism 

mained  something  in  the  nature  of  a  half-uttered 
word.  The  amazing  maturity  of  his  technique,  a  pic- 
torial gift,  and  a  serious  view  of  art  promised  in  him  an 
excellent  artist,  a  delicate  painter  and  a  poet,  but  his 
drawings  and  most  of  his  paintings  betray  the  fact  that 
the  youthful  master  was  misled  by  the  excessive  praises 
of  his  fellow-painters  and  already  entered  the  easy 
road  of  mannerism.  Unlike  Lebedev,  Vasilyev's  last 
works  betray,  more  clearly  than  his  first  canvases,  a 
pursuit  of  prettiness,  and  concessions  to  the  bad  taste 
of  the  public.  At  any  rate,  many  aquarelles,  draw- 
ings, and  a  few  sketches  in  oil  of  this  gifted  artist  prob- 
ably played  an  important  part  in  the  development  of 
our  landscape  technique,  and  present  a  great  artistic 
value. 

Here  must  be  also  mentioned  B.  D.  Polyenov  (born 
in  1844) ,  whose  merits  in  the  field  of  landscape  compel 
us  to  be  more  indulgent  to  his  blunders  in  historical 
painting.  His  studies  of  the  Moscow  Kreml,  his 
charming,  genuinely  poetical  "Moscow  Courtyard," 
and  "Grandmother's  Garden"  were  as  significant  for 
their  time  as  Savrasov's  "The  Rooks  Have  Come." 
These  pictures  were  the  fountain-head  of  the  poetic 
and  pantheistic  landscape  which  in  literature  is  rep- 
resented by  Turgenev  and  Tyutchev.  Despite  the 
fact  that  their  technique  is  not  very  good,  they  incon- 

157 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

testably  belong  to  the  best  productions  of  Russian 
painting  of  the  seventies  and  eighties. 

The  role  of  a  Russian  impressionist  was  played  by 
A.  Kuindzhi  (born  in  1842)/  a  pupil  of  Ayvazorsky, 
from  whom  Kuindzhi  unfortunately  borrowed  a  too 
superficial  technique  and  a  proneness  to  cheap  effects. 
Of  course,  Kuindzhi's  "Impressionism"  cannot  be  ac- 
cepted without  reservations.  He  achieved  a  remark- 
able brilliancy  of  colour,  noted  new  points  in  land- 
scape, and  he  was  the  first  in  Russia — forty  years  after 
Corot — to  point  out  the  necessity  of  simplifying  forms ; 
but,  a  man  of  little  culture,  praised  to  death  by  his  con- 
temporaries, he  did  not  create  anything  absolutely 
beautiful  and  artistically  mature.  In  technique  he  re- 
mained a  dilettante,  in  his  motives  he  indulged  in 
striking  effects,  in  his  conceptions  he  did  not  get  away 
from  commonplaces.  When  abroad,  he  completely 
overlooked  the  emancipatory  movement  of  artists  akin 
to  him  in  their  temperament,  and  has  remained  all  his 
life  a  "provincial,"  a  spirited  and,  to  a  certain  extent, 
bold,  but  a  hopelessly  gross  and  undeveloped  artist. 

In  the  heyday  of  his  glory  Kuindzhi  exerted  hardly 
any  influence  on  his  fellow-painters,  and  only  in  the 
course  of  years  did  he  succeed  in  creating  a  certain 
school,  which  rapidly  outstripped  its  master.     Traces 

^  Died  in  1910.     (Translator's  note.) 

158 


Landscape  and  Free  Realism 

of  Kuindzhi's  influence  can  be  found  perhaps  in  the 
works  of  Repin,  Levitan,  and  others.  But  his  real 
followers  are  a  number  of  young,  energetic  painters, 
among  whom  it  is  necessary  to  mention  here:  Rylov, 
Rushchitz,  Purvit,  Gaush,  and  Bogayevsky.  They 
have  all,  however,  gone  far  away  from  the  precepts  of 
their  master. 

The  eighties  are  a  transitional  period  in  the  history 
of  Russian  landscape  painting.  At  that  time  along- 
side Kuindzhi  and  Shishkin  the  following  painters 
achieved  some  note:  Sudkovsky,  a  painter  of  little 
gift;  the  pretentious  and  insipid  Klever;  the  "Russian 
Diisseldorfian"  Dyuker;  and  Orlovsky,  a  feeble  fol- 
lower of  Shishkin.  It  is  at  that  time  also  that  the  signs 
of  a  renascence  of  Russian  landscape  painting  made 
their  appearance.  We  have  in  mind  Dubovsky's  pic- 
tures, poetically  conceived,  but  old-fashioned  in  execu- 
tion, and  the  water-colour  painting  of  Albert  Benois, 
very  plain  and  unsophisticated.  Toward  the  end  of 
the  eighties  the  movement  came  to  a  clearer  and  more 
definite  expression  in  the  works  of  Ostroukhov  ("Bad 
Weather,"  "Golden  Autumn") — of  Svyetoslavsky, 
who  painted  corners  of  provincial  towns  and  the 
flooded  roads,  which  are  the  inseparable  accessory  of 
the  Russian  spring — of  Tzionglinsky,  the  ardent  fol- 
lower of  impressionism,  who  devoted  himself  to  the 

159 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

rendition  of  difficult  pictorial  effects  in  nature — and 
also  in  the  first  endeavours  of  Levitan  and  A.  Vasnet- 
zov.  Finally,  many  new  words  were  uttered  and  many 
precious  discoveries  made  in  the  field  of  landscape 
painting  by  painters  who  did  not  specialise  in  land- 
scape, such  as  Repin,  Vereshchagin,  Surikov,  V.  Vas- 
netzov,  and  Nesterov. 

"The  Quiet  Convent"  (1891)  may  be  considered  the 
first  fully  conscious  and  mature  work  of  Levitan 
(1861-1900) .  Until  then  the  master  was  only  essay- 
ing his  power,  developing  the  themes  which  had  been 
already  exploited  by  Vasilyev  and  Polyenov.  A  trip 
abroad  (in  1889) ,  and  especially  the  works  of  the  Bar- 
bizon  masters,  which  he  saw  at  the  World  Exhibition, 
opened  his  eyes,  and  ever  since  then  he  found  his  way 
and  saw  his  goal. 

The  younger  generation  now  accuses  Levitan  of  be- 
ing a  "literary"  painter.  But  it  is  this  very  quality 
of  his  art  which  the  "Wanderers,"  Levitan's  first  com- 
rades, praised  in  him.  Levitan,  it  seemed  to  them,  cre- 
ated a  new  type  of  landscape  painting:  a  landscape 
with  a  story.  Gradually,  however,  Levitan  began  con- 
sciously and  persistently  to  free  himself  from  the  inar- 
tistic programme  of  the  "Wanderers,"  and  even  before 
he  became  connected  with  the  group  of  the  "Mir  Iskus- 
stva"  ("World  of  Art"),  he  stood  on  a  firm  and  quite 

160 


THE    FOREST    IN    WINTER 


Ivan  Sbisbkin 


Landscape  and  Free  Realism 

separate  ground.  To  the  "World  of  Art"  belongs  the 
honour  of  a  true  appreciation  of  this  great  artist  and 
of  that  moral  support,  which  Levitan  felt  in  people, 
who  really  understood  his  art  and  desired  but  one 
thing — that  he  should  express  himself  as  fully  as  pos- 
sible, without  any  admixture  of  literary  ballast.  If 
nowadays  the  younger  generation  disagrees  with  this 
appreciation,  it  is  not  because  of  Levitan's  adherence 
to  "literature,"  but  rather  because  every  phenomenon 
in  art,  be  it  ever  so  beautiful,  must  in  course  of  time 
be  replaced  by  another  one,  in  most  cases  diametrically 
opposed  to  it. 

Levitan  might  rather  be  blamed  for  other  failings. 
The  purely  pictorial  qualities  of  his  earlier  pictures, 
which  seemed  excellent,  are  no  longer  so  highly  val- 
ued. Not  in  vain  was  Levitan  a  Russian  painter,  the 
pupil  of  the  dilettante  Savrasov  and  of  the  Moscow 
Art  School ;  not  in  vain  did  he  spend  his  youth  among 
people  who  were  very  advanced  and  sensitive,  but  had 
a  scant  artistic  culture.  There  are  in  the  "Quiet  Con- 
vent," not  to  speak  of  his  earlier  paintings,  traces  of 
this  school  and  of  these  influences.  But  it  is  to  Levi- 
tan's credit  that  unlike  some  of  his  fellow-painters,  he 
was  aware  of  his  failings  and  in  his  last  years  strove 
to  free  himself  from  them. 

Levitan  obstinately  strove   forwards,   and  in   this 

i6i 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

painful  pursuit  of  the  elusive  ideal  of  beautiful  paint- 
ing he  worked  his  pictures  over  and  over,  seeking  for 
a  manner  which  would  be  uniformly  skilful,  free,  mas- 
terly, and  at  the  same  time  absolutely  "solid."  And, 
in  fact,  his  last  pictures,  by  the  beauty  of  their  sur- 
face, the  softness  and  tenderness  of  the  stroke,  by  their 
"bodied,"  strong  pate — can  rank  with  the  best  produc- 
tions of  nineteenth  century  painting,  the  works  of  Con- 
stable, Daubigny  and  Dupre  included.  It  was  a  great 
step  forward  for  the  Russian  School.  Levitan  re- 
newed the  connection  with  the  West,  disrupted  since 
Lebedev's  death. 

Technical  achievements  alone  do  not,  however,  ex- 
haust Levitan's  importance  in  the  history  of  Russian 
painting.  Levitan  is  the  father  of  an  entire  school 
of  landscape  painting,  which  constitutes  one  of  the 
most  attractive  pages  in  the  annals  of  Russian  art. 
What  Vasilyev  aspired  to,  what  the  works  of  Savrasov, 
Polyenov,  V.  Vasnetzov  and  others  foretold — that 
Levitan  brought  to  final  consummation.  Levitan  dis- 
covered the  peculiar  charm  of  Russian  landscape 
"moods";  he  found  the  distinctive  Russian  landscape 
style  and  created  in  painting  worthy  illustrations  to 
the  admirable  poetry  of  Pushkin,  Koltzov,  Gogol,  Tur- 
genev,  and  Tyutchev.  He  rendered  the  inexplicable 
charm  of  our  humble  poverty,  the  shoreless  breadth  of 

162 


Landscape  and  Free  Realism 

our  virginal  expanses,  the  festal  sadness  of  the  Russian 
autumn,  and  the  enigmatic  call  of  the  Russian  spring. 
There  are  no  human  beings  in  his  pictures,  but  they 
are  permeated  with  the  deep  emotion  that  floods  the 
human  heart  face  to  face  with  the  sanctitude  of  the 
Whole.  Sheer  beauty  of  form  did  not  move  Levitan; 
on  the  contrary,  "classically"  beautiful  views  left  him 
indifferent;  they  disconcerted  him,  as  the  beautiful  an- 
tiques disconcerted  Rembrandt.  Nature's  very  life — 
all  that  lives  and  praises  the  Creator — that  is  what 
Levitan  was  after. 

The  most  gifted  and  pleasing  among  Levitan's  fol- 
lowers are  the  following:  Pereplyotchikov,  Yuon, 
Zhukovsky,  Dosyekin,  Kalmykov,  Aladzhalov,  and 
Vinogradov.  Levitan's  art  exerted  also  a  strong  in- 
fluence on  nearly  all  of  Kuindzhi's  followers,  espe- 
cially on  Rylov,  Purvit,  Rushchitz,  and  Fokin.  The 
dependence  of  these  artists  on  Levitan  is  not,  however, 
one  of  servile  imitation.  Levitan  opened  their  eyes,  as 
it  were, — led  them  out  into  the  open  and  showed  them 
the  fascination  of  the  world.  The  best  of  them  then 
chose  their  own  way,  and  began  to  seek  in  nature  for 
motives  dear  to  their  hearts,  without  forgetting,  how- 
ever, the  precepts  of  the  master,  but  without  turning 
them  into  stiff  formulas.  Anyhow,  the  modern  spirit 
of  individualism  would  not  allow  them  to  submit 

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The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

themselves  to  their  model.  Nature  is  broad  and  many- 
sided,  and  these  artists  endeavour,  each  working  in  his 
chosen  field,  to  render  her  multiform  and  complex 
beauty. 

In  the  eighties  and  nineties  Moscow  produced  sev- 
eral other  artists,  who  side  by  side  with  Levitan  fur- 
thered the  development  of  Russian  landscape  painting. 
All  these  masters  worked  in  close  connection  with  Levi- 
tan, and  it  is  impossible  to  determine  what  they  owe 
to  each  other.  It  was  a  common  fireplace,  where  dif- 
ferent artistic  personalities  burned,  and  kindled  each 
other.  True,  Levitan's  flame  blazed  most  brilliantly 
and  conspicuously,  but  it  cannot  be  asserted  that  it  set 
on  fire  the  rest  or  that  it  had  been  kindled  by  them. 

Nesterov,  and  especially  Syerov  and  Korovin,  were 
together  with  Levitan  the  creators  of  Russian  land- 
scape painting.  Each  of  them  brought  into  his  art  a 
peculiar  light,  a  beauty,  and  a  divination  of  his  own. 
Nesterov,  in  the  landscapes  of  his  pictures,  promised 
to  be  a  great  and  poetic  artist.  He  discovered  the 
gloomy  solemnity  of  the  northern  forest,  the  grey  si- 
lence, the  "moods"  of  Russian  nature,  replete  with 
quiet  emotion  and  suspense.  In  the  backgrounds  of 
his  pictures  devoted  to  St.  Sergius  there  is  rendered  the 
pensive,  religious  aspect  of  our  landscape,  the  softness 
of  the  rainy  atmosphere,  the  frailness  of  the  vegeta- 

164 


Landscape  and  Free  Realism 

tion,  and  the  freshness  spread  over  everything.  It 
might  be  expected  that  Nesterov  would  have  given 
something  more  genuine  than  V.  Vasnetzov.  But 
these  expectations  were  not  realised,  and  in  his  last 
pictures  full  of  dull  hypocrisy,  even  the  landscape  ele- 
ment acquired  a  trite  character. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  artistic  life  of  Valentine 
Syerov  (born  in  1865)  ^  represents  nothing  but  steady, 
quiet  development.  Syerov  was  Repin's  pupil,  and 
his  art  brought  to  consummate  expression  what  was 
only  half  uttered  in  the  work  of  his  teacher.  Syerov 
is  the  strongest  bulwark  in  Russia  of  "pure,  free"  Real- 
ism. He  is  a  man  of  unusual  sincerity,  an  absolute 
enemy  of  posing  and  of  all  preconceived  tendency. 
Here  was  expressed  Syerov's  purely  artistic  tempera- 
ment, the  innate  aristocracy  of  his  nature,  his  natural 
aesthetic  attitude  toward  things,  his  deep  sense  of 
beauty,  and  his  striking  ability  to  appreciate  the  artis- 
tic charm  of  phenomena.  At  the  same  time  Syerov's 
personality  is  conditioned  upon  Russia's  coming  of  age 
in  the  spiritual  order,  which  became  apparent  since  the 
middle  of  the  eighties.  Syerov  was  weary  of  the  nar- 
row aesthetic  catechism  of  the  "Wanderers"  their  limited 
outlook  and  elementary  programme.  He  feels  deeply 
the  life  of  his  country;  he  is  a  truly  Russian  painter, 

^Died  in  1911.     (Translator's  note.) 

165 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

who  has  perceived  and  rendered  the  distinctive  fascina- 
tion of  his  fatherland  and  who  has  also  grasped  the  psy- 
chology of  the  Russian  mind,  but  there  is  not  a  trace  in 
his  manner  of  that  premeditated,  "literary"  approach, 
which  mars  the  art  of  his  predecessors. 

Syerov  never  painted  "scenes  from  Russian  life," 
but  his  landscapes,  like  the  best  ones  of  Levitan,  in 
revealing  the  distinctive  poetry  of  modern  Russian  art 
and  in  unfolding  the  master's  intimate  knowledge  of 
Russian  nature,  testify  to  the  depth  of  self-conscious- 
ness and  to  the  maturity  of  Russian  society.  Only  a 
mature  personality  can  assume  a  conscious  attitude 
toward  the  charm  of  the  surrounding  world.  At  the 
same  time  Syerov's  portraits,  utterly  simple  and  direct, 
but  of  a  consummate  craftsmanship — are  a  genuine 
and  multiform  monument  of  the  Russian  society  of  the 
end  of  the  nineteenth  century  and  the  beginning  of  the 
twentieth.  For  Russia  of  that  complex  and  gloomy 
epoch  Syerov's  portrait  gallery  will  be  of  the  same 
value  as  van-der-Helst's  portraits  for  Holland  and 
those  of  Largilliere  for  courtly  France. 

Syerov  succeeded  in  painting  a  long  series  of  promi- 
nent leaders  of  modern  Russia,  and  this  in  spite  of  his 
surliness,  excessive  straightforwardness  and  unsocia- 
bility, and  in  spite  of  the  ignorance  of  our  society  in 
matters  of  art.    This  series  starts  with  the  Emperor 

166 


Landscape  and  Free  Realism 

and  the  Grand  Princes  Mikhail  Nicolayevich,  Georgy 
Nicolayevich  and  Pavl  Alexandrovich,  and  ends  with 
the  most  characteristic  representatives  of  the  Russian 
"intelligentzia":  rich  patronisers,  artists,  musicians, 
authors.  The  value  of  these  likenesses  consists,  in  ad- 
dition to  the  beauty  of  their  painting  and  the  noble 
splendour  of  their  colours,  in  the  sincerity  and  ease 
with  which  Syerov  attacked  his  themes.  With  very 
few  exceptions,  he  has  never  painted  official  portraits : 
this  would  be  a  perfectly  impossible  task  for  so  "inde- 
pendent" a  character.  Syerov's  portraits  are  always 
intimate,  they  give  us  the  images  of  human  beings,  not 
of  ideas  with  which  the  latter  are  connected.  The  ex- 
pression of  Syerov's  artistic  personality  was  not  lim- 
ited to  landscapes  and  portraits.  He  is  of  too  ardent 
and  artistic  a  nature  to  remain  within  any  limits  what- 
ever. He  essayed  his  forces  in  the  field  of  "historical 
painting,"  if  it  is  possible  to  apply  this  term  to  the 
works  of  such  a  direct  and  sincere  master  as  Syerov  is. 
Unfortunately,  he  is  not  prolific.  His  historical  com- 
positions are  few,  and  they  are  nearly  all  executed  by 
Kutepov's  order  for  the  "Czars'  Hunt."  But  these 
charming  aquarelles  are  sufficient  to  assure  Syerov  the 
reputation  of  the  "Russian  Mentzel,"  of  an  artist  who 
can  render  the  life  of  dim  ages  with  wonderful  keen- 
ness and  rare  technical  skill. 

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The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

In  this  Moscow  circle  of  artists  K.  Korovin  (born  in 
1861)  represents  le  cote  boheme.  He  is  "Apollo's  fa- 
vourite," a  great  and  delicate  talent,  but  rather  unbal- 
anced, reaching  at  many  things  but  completing  noth- 
ing. He  is  not  the  only  one  at  fault,  however.  Like 
Vrubel,  Korovin  was  not  sufficiently  appreciated  by 
Russian  society.  It  is  astonishing  that  his  magnificent 
panels  for  Mr.  Mamontov  and  for  the  World  Exhibi- 
tion have  remained  unique  in  his  work,  and  that  no  one 
else  desired  to  utilise  his  eminent  and  original  decora- 
tive talent. 

V.  A.  Telyakovsky,  the  Director  of  the  Imperial 
Theatres,  is  to  be  credited  with  having  engaged  Koro- 
vin in  theatrical  decoration  and  secured  his  material 
well-being.  But  wall  painting  and  stage  decoration 
are  not  the  same,  and  we  cannot  see  without  sorrow 
that  Korovin,  and  also  Golovin,  waste  their  energies 
on  these  ephemeral  productions.  The  folly  of  this 
"work  in  the  void"  must  be  evident  to  the  artists  them- 
selves, and  in  the  consciousness  of  this  fact  lies  per- 
haps the  cause  of  the  slovenliness  and  inconsistency 
which  is  noticeable  in  their  work  and  which  we  have 
deemed  it  necessary  to  point  out  many  a  time. 

In  the  purely  pictorial  respect  Korovin  occupies  a 
place  apart.  He  is  the  creator  of  a  delicate  and  orig- 
inal colour  gamut,  in  which  grey  and  dim  colour  values 

168 


BOYS 


Valentine  Sverov 


Landscape  and  Free  Realism 

prevail.  In  Russia  Korovin  was  taken,  by  misunder- 
standing, for  an  Impressionist;  yet  in  his  propensity  to 
bitumen  and  "patina"  effects  he  is  just  the  reverse  of 
the  Impressionists  with  their  quest  for  light.  Korovin 
is  a  genuine  colourist,  that  is,  a  painter  not  only  able 
to  render  correctly  the  colours  of  nature,  but  also 
enamoured  of  the  beauty  of  colours.  Korovin's  pic- 
tures and  panels  often  delicately  render  an  effect 
grasped  by  the  painter  in  nature,  but,  in  addition,  even 
when  they  boldly  depart  from  nature,  their  colours  are 
beautiful.  In  those  of  Korovin's  works  which  are  most 
fantastic  there  is  always  high  truth,  i.  e.,  harmony,  well 
sustained  style,  and  organic  unity.  With  regard  to 
the  technique  of  his  painting,  too,  Korovin  stands  by 
himself.  His  brush  is  fascinatingly  nonchalant  and 
the  combinations  of  his  colours  are  rich  and  give  the 
effect  of  enamel  work. 

The  historian  of  Russian  painting  cannot  refrain 
here  from  expressing  a  fervent  wish  that  a  change  may 
occur  in  Korovin's  life,  which  would  restore  to  us  the 
former  Korovin,  which  would  allow  him  to  create 
heartfelt  works  instead  of  dragging  the  chains  of  bu- 
reaucratic drudgery.  Korovin — is  by  his  nature  the 
absolute  negation  of  everything  balanced,  moderate, 
and  dully  conventional — and  yet  he  has  been  for  many 
years  now  an  "official  painter,"  the  decorator  of  the 

169 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

Imperial  Theatres,  the  successor  of  the  conscientious 
pedant  Shishkov,  and  the  pretentious  Bocharov.  Only 
in  Russia  can  such  strange  things  occur. 

To  "free"  realists,  whether  or  not  dependent  on  the 
above-mentioned  artists,  belong:  Braz,  Kustodiev, 
S.  Korovin,  Pasternak,  Arkhipov,  and  in  part  also  the 
late  Mary  Yakunchikov,  and  Grabar.  Braz  is  the  rep- 
resentative in  tlie  field  of  portrait  and  realistic  land- 
scape of  what  is  termed  "kitchen."  Braz  "prepares" 
his  pictures,  and  tries  to  give  them  a  "savoury"  and 
"juicy"  colouring,  and  an  agreeable  pictorial  surface. 
Braz  would  deserve  the  greatest  success  in  our  society, 
which  looks  at  pictures  mainly  as  wall  decorations.  If, 
however,  such  a  society  still  exists  in  Russia,  its  taste 
has  grown  so  coarse  that  it  has  become  unable  to  ap- 
preciate the  eminent  qualities  of  Braz,  who  is  a  pleas- 
ant, correct,  and  at  the  same  time  a  very  conscientious 
artist — and  gives  its  preference  to  works  manufac- 
tured by  Bogdanov-Byelsky,  Sternberg,  Kryzhitzky 
and  Pisemsky. 

Sergey  Korovin  (born  in  1858)  is  a  strange  phenom- 
enon among  the  plain,  sane  realists.  In  his  themes  he 
comes  near  the  school  of  the  sixties,  but  his  attitude 
toward  his  subjects  betrays  the  culture  of  a  later,  ma- 
turer  epoch.  In  the  same  manner,  his  technique  occu- 
pies a  middle  position  between  the  "skill"  developed 

170 


Landscape  and  Free  Realism 

in  the  circle  of  Syerov,  Korovin,  and  Levitan — and 
utter  dilettanteism.  Besides,  it  is  hard  to  form  a  clear 
estimate  of  this  artist  who  is  so  highly  valued  in  Mos- 
cow, for  only  a  very  limited  number  of  his  works  are 
known,  mostly  sketches  and  rough  draughts. 

Arkhipov  (born  in  1862)  is  a  gifted  artist,  a  keen 
draughtsman  and  a  skilful  painter.  Unfortunately, 
he  has  been  praised  to  death,  as  it  were,  by  Moscow, 
which  is  so  lavish  of  applause,  and  long  since  he  ceased 
developing,  subsisting  on  the  repetition  of  hackneyed 
motives,  in  which  a  deft  stroke  and  faded  grey  colours 
play  the  part  of  "modern"  painting.  Formerly,  on  the 
contrary,  Arkhipov  seemed  to  be  an  artist  endowed 
with  a  gift  of  observation.  His  "Old  Women  on  the 
Church  Porch,"  and  his  "Troyka,"  are  among  the  fine 
pictures  of  the  nineties,  and  their  success  was  deserved. 

What  has  been  said  about  Braz  can  be  repeated,  with 
a  few  reservations,  about  Pasternak.  He,  too,  is  able 
to  "wrap  up"  his  picture,  and  to  lend  his  drawings  an 
air  of  smartness  and  exquisiteness.  At  the  same  time 
Pasternak  often  succeeds  in  creating  works  which  are 
attractive,  or  have  an  historical  interest.  To  the  first 
group  belong  his  children  scenes,  to  the  second  his  curi- 
ous pictures,  representing  Leo  Tolstoy's  "interieur," 
and  also  a  pastel,  depicting  one  of  the  meetings  of  the 
"Union  of  Russian  Artists."     On  the  right  sits  the  un- 

171 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

seemly,  taciturn  Syerov;  on  the  same  line,  to  the  left 
— the  gloomy,  nervous  Ivanov;  in  the  second  row  we 
see  K.  Korovin,  who  has  stretched  himself  in  a  char- 
acteristic pose,  and  the  reserved,  quiet  Apollinarius 
Vasnetzov. 

Kustodiev  derives  from  Syerov  and  Korovin;  as  to 
his  landscapes,  they  are  influenced  by  Levitan.  In 
general,  he  is  still  very  young,  and  rich  mostly  in  prom- 
ises, but  we  mention  his  name  here  because  it  seems  to 
us  that  he  clings  wholly  to  our  modern  Realism  and 
will  hardly  betray  it  in  the  future. 

To  "free"  Realism  belongs  also  the  late  Mary  Yak- 
unchikov  (1870-1903)  one  of  the  most  gifted, 
thoughtful,  and  poetical  figures  that  Russian  painting 
has  produced  for  the  last  few  decades.  Yakunchikov 
essayed  her  forces  in  fantastic  compositions  and  in  ap- 
plied art,  and  after  her  marriage  she  devoted  a  con- 
siderable part  of  her  energies  to  the  special  sphere  of 
"children"  art.  Yet  it  seems  to  us  that  these  digres- 
sions were  due  to  the  example  of  Miss  H.  Polyenov 
and  to  the  influence  the  latter  exerted  on  her  youthful 
friend.  At  any  rate,  the  best  and  truly  charming 
works  in  Yakunchikov  "Nachlass"  which  is  quite 
large  considering  her  short  life,  are  more  or  less  close 
echoes  of  Levitan's  elegies  and  idyls.  There  sounds 
in  them  the  same  note  of  sad  resignation,  there  vibrates 

172 


PORTRAIT    OF    PRINCESS    YUSUPOV 


Valentine  Syerov 


Landscape  and  Free  Realism 

in  them  the  same  infinite  love  for  Russia's  virginal 
rolling  expanses,  for  her  dear  withered  vegetation,  the 
same  "cult"  of  grass,  bushes,  birch-trees,  buds,  and  field 
flowers.  A  peculiar  charm  is  added  to  her  pictures  by 
the  delight  she  takes  in  the  past.  In  Levitan  this  mo- 
tive is  rare,  and  is  not  present  in  his  best  productions. 
Mary  Yakunchikov,  who  for  many  years  lived  on  an 
ancient  estate  near  Moscow,  entertained  something 
like  an  adoration  for  the  whole  mode  of  living  of  the 
old  country  squires,  and  this  adoration  little  by  little 
spread  to  all  the  things  of  the  dead  past.  She  was 
moved  to  an  equal  degree  by  wretched  crosses  on  vil- 
lage churchyards,  by  half-ruined  cloister  belfries,  by 
empty  rooms  with  furniture  in  summer  covers,  by  the 
solemn  walks  of  Versailles,  and  by  the  deserted 
"Cherry  Orchards." 

Grabar,  who  had  spent  many  years  studying  paint- 
ing in  Miinchen  and  Paris,  returned  to  Russia  four 
years  ago  (1900)  ^  Until  then  none  of  his  works  had 
appeared  anywhere.  He  seems  unable  to  find  him- 
self. Now  he  attacks  themes  bequeathed  by  Mary 
Yakunchikov,  and  renders  the  melancholy  charm  of 
deserted  "Noblemen's  Nests";  now,  like  Syerov,  he 
paints  landscapes  replete  with  delicate  country  moods ; 
now  again,  following  the  example  set  by  Korovin,  he 

^  Written  in  1904.     (Translator's  note.) 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

goes  north  and  brings  from  there  views  of  uncouth  pro- 
vincial towns  and  bizarre  village  churches — typical, 
poetical  pictures,  of  an  excellent  style.  He  is  now  ab- 
sorbed by  totally  different  themes,  and  if  he  will  re- 
main faithful  to  them  in  the  future,  there  will  be  no 
ground  for  classifying  him  with  the  realists.  One 
thing  can  be  said  with  full  assurance:  the  years 
Grabar  spent  in  diligently  studying  his  "trade"  at 
Miinchen  were  not  in  vain.  He  is  a  master  in  the  full 
sense  of  the  word,  knowing  his  business  firmly  and 
from  all  angles.  He  is  one  of  the  few  Russian  artists 
whose  attitude  toward  their  work  is  fully  conscious. 
Consequently,  whatever  Grabar  may  turn  to  in  the  fu- 
ture, it  may  be  confidently  expected  that  it  will  be 
creditable  work, — that  there  will  be  in  it  neither  dil- 
ettantism, nor  bad  taste,  nor  triviality. 


174 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  CONTEMPORARY  STATE  OF  RUSSIAN   PAINTING 

WE  ought  to  have  ended  our  work  with  the 
preceding  chapter,  treating  of  the  art  of 
yesterday,  which  is  sufficiently  remote  from 
us  to  be  correctly  estimated.  The  art  of  Levitan  and 
that  of  Syerov  and  Korovin  who  are  now  in  the  heyday 
of  their  powers — already  belong  to  the  past,  and  we 
can  discuss  this  phase  of  the  history  of  Russian  paint- 
ing without  running  the  risk  of  losing  the  right  per- 
spective. These  phenomena  have  already  reached 
maturity  and  completely  crystallised;  they  have  passed 
through  the  stage  of  negation,  through  the  second 
stage  of  indiscriminate  enthusiasm,  and  now  they  are 
entering  the  celebrated  phase  of  "re-valuation."  Be- 
sides, the  quiet,  balanced  art  of  Levitan  and  Syerov 
hardly  needs  any  special  viewpoints  or  any  distance 
for  its  appreciation. 

This  is  not  the  case  with  a  series  of  phenomena  in 
our  painting,  which  are  just  now  being  born,  or  which 
are  just  receiving  a  definite  shape  and  becoming  con- 
scious of  themselves.    It  would  be  absurd  to  demand 

175 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

an  "historical"  attitude  toward  them.  We  ourselves 
are  in  the  very  midst  of  the  whirlwind  which  sways  our 
contemporaries,  and  we  can  neither  analyse  it  nor 
foresee  into  what  it  may  turn,  nor  divine  its  future 
significance.  Besides,  modern  art  criticism  is  just  now 
raising  the  question  whether  there  is  any  sense  what- 
ever in  weighing  and  estimating  artistic  phenomena. 
The  basic  principles  of  aesthetic  theorising,  such  as 
the  conception  of  beauty,  of  formal  perfection,  of 
"workmanship,"  are  not  only  shaken  in  their  defini- 
tions, but  their  very  necessity  is  denied.  At  the  same 
time  the  new  aesthetic  definitions  which  are  suggested 
are  confused  and  incomplete. 

Guided  by  this  consideration,  we  have  thought  it 
proper  to  abandon  in  the  conclusion  of  this  work  the 
critico-historical  method  of  treatment  which  has  served 
us  throughout  it.  In  these  last  pages  we  shall  en- 
deavour to  stake  out  the  highest  summits  of  modern 
Russian  painting,  without  attempting  to  determine 
their  absolute  value,  or  forecasting  their  significance 
"before  eternity."  It  is  probable  that  we  shall  dis- 
cuss magnitudes  which  in  some  ten  years  from  now 
will  prove  too  petty  to  deserve  mention  in  a  "History 
of  the  Russian  School  of  Painting."  Yet  it  is  our  be- 
lief that,  upon  the  whole,  those  painters  upon  whom 
the  attention  of  the  artistic  world  is  now  centred,  will 

176 


Contemporary  Painting 

also  in  the  future  be  considered,  probably  with  various 
reservations,  the  most  typical  representatives  of  the 
art  of  our  times. 

Is  it  possible  to  believe  at  the  present  moment  in  the 
existence  of  a  "Russian  School"? — Hardly.  The 
school,  in  the  sense  of  a  uniform  system  or  of  a  pro- 
gramme, does  not  exist  any  more.  Individualism  which 
furthered  our  emancipation  from  the  fetters  of  the 
"Wanderers'  "  tendency  and  from  the  academic  pat- 
tern— has  at  this  time  reached  the  moment  of  its  ex- 
treme development,  and  has  evolved  its  extreme  con- 
clusions. We  have  as  many  movements  and  schools 
as  individual  painters.  And  this  is  so  not  only  in 
Russia,  but  throughout  Western  art.  Each  truly 
modern  artist  strives  only  toward  one  thing:  to  ex- 
press as  fully  as  possible  himself  alone.  All  influence, 
all  borrowing  is  branded  as  plagiarism.  The  artist 
suffers  if  he  notices  that  his  manner  recalls  that  of  an- 
other. 

Yet  it  is  impossible  that  such  a  state  of  affairs  should 
continue  forever.  Individualism  as  a  protest  is  beau- 
tiful, but  as  a  self-sufficient  moral  and  aesthetic  sys- 
tem it  is  bad,  nay,  horrible.  Particularly,  in  the  field 
of  art,  individualism  leads  to  complete  degeneration 
of  forms,  to  ineffectiveness  in  work,  and  to  poverty  and 
ineptness  of  conception.    However  great  our  worship 

177 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

of  the  individual  human  soul  may  be,  this  is  nothing  in 
comparison  with  the  "psychic  organism"  of  several 
souls.  Only  such  an  organic  union  of  personalities 
possesses  the  real  power,  which  can  further  the  indi- 
vidual creation  of  works  of  true  might,  beauty,  and 
usefulness.  Proud  isolation  leads  to  impotence,  hol- 
lowness,  and  nonentity.  This  is  the  great  cosmical 
mystery.  Only  through  Communion  does  Divinity 
manifest  itself  in  us, — Divinity  that  gives  us  the  nec- 
essary power  for  high  deeds  or  guides  us  to  revelations. 
But,  of  course,  the  mysterious  laws  of  the  "common 
soul"  demand  that  this  communion  be  one  of  life  and 
freedom,  that  it  should  be  neither  a  lifeless  ritual  like 
an  Academy,  nor  an  inner  slavery  after  the  manner  of 
the  "purpose  painting"  of  the  sixties. 

It  seems  to  us  that  individualism  has  served  its  time, 
and  that  it  should  cease  to  sway  our  art.  This  is  all 
the  more  necessary  because,  though  individualism  is 
bad  as  a  system,  it  is  forever  an  attribute  of  human  ex- 
istence. In  free  communion  the  individual  can  by  no 
means  perish,  for  a  truly  masterful  personality  can  at 
most  be  infected  by  another  one,  but  never  completely 
lost  in  it.  We  consider  it  desirable  that  the  next  phase 
of  Russian  art  should  restore  the  "School,"  that  is, 
common  work  for  a  common  aim.  But,  of  course,  we 
do  not  wish  a  programme  forced  upon  our  art  even  by 

178 


Contemporary  Painting 

the  most  well-intentioned  social  movement.  Art  must 
remain  self-sufficient,  above  all  it  must  seek  for  its  own 
God,  who  is  but  a  distinctive  revelation  of  "Universal 
Divinity,"  Then  the  rest  will  naturally  be  added  to 
art.  Only  an  art,  self-sufficient,  but  unified  for  a  com- 
mon purpose,  only  a  school,  both  as  technique  and  as 
ideas,  can  bear  fruits  of  beauty,  which  will  be  worthy 
of  those  borne  by  the  famous  "schools"  of  former  ages, 
and  even  surpass  them  in  nutritive  powers  and  in  fas- 
cination. It  is  hardly  necessary  to  insist,  however, 
that  these  wishes  are  helpless  in  the  face  of  life's  de- 
crees, and  that  the  future  of  Russian  art  depends  upon 
the  unrevealed  destinies  of  the  Russian  nation. 

Considerations  of  space  compel  us  to  give  only  a  very 
brief  sketch  of  the  contemporary  state  of  Russian  paint- 
ing,— that  is,  to  enumerate  and  characterise  those  ar- 
tistic personalities  which  are  at  present  looked  upon  as 
most  prominent,  interesting,  and  valuable.  Most  of 
them  must  be  considered  as  wholly  independent 
phenomena,  and  we  observe  but  rarely  a  certain  in- 
voluntary influence  on  the  part  of  the  stronger  artistic 
personalities,  or  a  certain  external  grouping. 

We  have  spoken  already  of  Vrubel,  as  of  Ivanov's 
sole  worthy  heir.  But  Vrubel's  connection  with 
Ivanov  manifested  itself  only  in  his  early  religious 

179 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

works;  later  on  he  came  to  occupy  a  totally  separate 
place,  and  now  the  sphere  of  his  art  has  nothing  in 
common  either  with  the  artists  of  the  past  or  with  mod- 
ern Western  art.  At  the  same  time,  Vrubel  is,  unlike 
his  fellow-individualists,  one  of  the  greatest  experts  in 
his  field.  He  is,  above  all,  a  master.  But  his  crafts- 
manship has  no  definite  connections  with  either  the 
classics  of  technique  or  with  the  prominent  masters  of 
our  times.  In  his  academic  years  he  was  enamoured  of 
Fortuny  and  rapidly  became  as  skilful  as  the  famous 
Spaniard;  later  on,  in  the  period  when  he  painted  his 
icons  for  the  Kirillov  Monastery,  he  re-educated  his 
taste  and  skill  by  the  study  of  Byzantine  mosaics;  be- 
ginning with  the  nineties  Vrubel  chooses  a  new  road, 
which  leads  him  to  a  strange  kingdom  where  every- 
thing :  forms,  colour,  manner,  images,  are  created  by  the 
artist  himself.  Vrubel's  art  can  be  likened  to  an  en- 
chanted garden  where  all  the  flowers,  alive  and  fra- 
grant, have  been  invented,  created,  and  grown  by  the 
gardener-magician. 

Vrubel  paints  everything.  Along  with  most  fan- 
tastic subjects  we  find  among  his  works  plain  sketches 
from  nature;  alongside  portraits — decorative  patterns, 
alongside  religious  revelations — mythological  "vi- 
sions." At  the  same  time,  Vrubel  is  a  sculptor,  per- 
haps the  best  Russian  sculptor  of  the  last  few  decades, 

180 


A    PORTRAIT 


Philip  Malyavin 


Contemporary  Painting 

and  an  architect,  a  stage  decorator,  an  original  master 
of  applied  art.  There  are  no  weak  points  in  Vrubel's 
artistic  personality.  He  is  everywhere  the  same  mag- 
nificent virtuoso,  the  same  phantast  of  a  fiery  tempera- 
ment, the  same  genuine  artist,  never  yielding  to  timid 
vulgarity,  all  flame  and  enthusiasm. 

But  at  the  same  time  Vrubel  is  a  true  decadent^  and 
herein  lies  the  cause  of  his  failure  to  achieve  success 
not  only  among  the  public  at  large,  but  also  among 
artists.  We  do  not  mean  to  say  that  Vrubel  ever 
played  antics  to  please  the  fad  of  the  hour,  or  that  he 
purposely  distorted  his  art.  Vrubel  is  just  such  a  de- 
cadent as  Beardsley,  Somov,  Gauguin,  as  Tiepolo  and 
Watteau  in  former  days,  as  the  art  of  Rococo,  and  as 
that  of  the  "flamboyant"  Gothic  style  and  of  Roman- 
ticism. Vrubel  is  excessively  exquisite,  too  refined, 
too  far  removed  from  common  understanding.  At  the 
same  time, — and  this  is  a  feature  of  the  end  of  the 
nineteenth  century — his  magnificent  art  is  full  of  in- 
consistencies, of  chasms  and  oddities.  Many  see  in 
these  deficiencies  the  first  signs  of  his  insanity,  but  it 
appears  to  us  that  his  disease  was  to  a  considerable  de- 
gree caused  by  the  consciousness  of  these  deficiencies, 
which  he  could  not  correct,  and  which  were  rooted  in 
the  entire  state  of  contemporary  art.  The  struggle  of 
a  soul  of  an  artistic  genius  with  the  inability  to  express 

181 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

itself, — thus  can  the  tragedy  of  Vrubel's  life  be  charac- 
terised. The  horror  in  this  duel  was  all  the  greater  in 
that  his  impotence  seemed  to  mock  at  him, — in  that  it 
was  not  an  organic  quality  of  his  nature,  but  rather  a 
demoniac  principle,  which  unexpectedly  invaded  his 
work. 

Under  the  sign  of  "decadence'''  is  also  the  art  of 
Konstantine  Somov,  who  is  one  of  the  most  delicate 
poets  and  one  of  the  most  refined  masters  of  modern 
painting.  Somov's  sphere  is  more  limited  than 
Vrubel's  immense  domain.  Somov  exists  in  a  secluded 
circle.  His  art  may  be  termed  "the  art  of  old  age,"  for 
it  is  rich  in  wonderful  mellowness.  Only  old  collec- 
tors of  vast  experience  can  appreciate  the  enchantment 
and  the  preciousness  of  objects  as  delicately  as  Somov 
does  the  beauty  of  colours,  the  exquisiteness  of  forms, 
the  delicacy  of  lines.  At  the  same  time  the  subjects 
Somov  treats  are  "senile."  His  works  are  like  mem- 
oirs written  by  one  who  has  lived  many  a  hundred 
years  on  this  earth.  Only  with  the  decline  of  a  cul- 
ture do  such  figures  appear  as  that  of  Somov.  Their 
glance  is  ever  turned  backward  to  a  past,  which  al- 
though it  has  not  been  lived  by  them,  is  presented  with 
the  veracity  and  convincing  power  of  something  actu- 
ally experienced.    There  is  something  mysterious  and 

182 


Contemporary  Painting 

fantastic  in  the  manner  in  which  Somov  evokes  the 
very  flavour  of  the  dim  past. 

Somov  reproduces  bygone  ages  without  any  scien- 
tific pedantry;  his  themes  are  taken  from  commonplace, 
everyday  life.  Somov's  personages  are  not  human  be- 
ings that  love  and  suffer,  they  are  rather  marionettes, 
but  such  marionettes  as  had  partaken  of  life's  entice- 
ments and  "would  not  taste  of  death."  Somov's  art  is 
steeped  in  quiet  sadness  and  scepticism.  He  loves  his 
world  infinitely,  and  at  the  same  time  he  mocks  at  its 
vanity.  In  Somov's  presentation  life  is  a  brilliant  and 
delicate  game  with  a  very  strange  beginning  and  a  dis- 
consolate, gloomy  end.  Somov's  talent  is  all  impreg- 
nated with  the  mysterious  power  of  inspiration  and 
divination,  but  at  the  same  time  there  is  a  note  of 
despair  in  it ;  to  his  mind  the  riddle  of  life  conceals  no 
lofty  meaning. 

Somov  is  a  decadent  not  only  in  the  philosophic  im- 
port of  his  art,  but  also  in  his  very  technique  and  paint- 
ing. But  in  applying  to  Somov  the  term  "decadence" 
has  the  same  meaning  as  it  bore  when  characterising 
Vrubel's  art.  Somov  is  at  one  and  the  same  time 
an  ineffective  painter  and  a  virtuoso.  At  times 
we  find  in  him  something  in  the  nature  of  intentional 
puerility,  which  is  due  to  his  proneness  to  satire,  to 

183 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

piquant  ugliness,  and  in  general  to  what  it  is  customary 
in  the  artistic  world  to  call  by  Hoffmann's  phrase 
"scurrility."  But  sometimes  Somov  is  as  helpless  as  a 
child,  unconsciously  and  against  his  own  will,  and  this 
even  in  works  where  everything  points  to  a  tremendous 
skill,  and  to  a  consummate  perfection  of  technique,  a 
perfection  unknown  to  the  whole  of  Russian  painting 
of  the  second  half  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

In  virtue  of  all  his  merits  and  failings  Somov  may 
count  together  with  Vrubel,  upon  one  of  the  most 
prominent  places  in  the  history  of  Russian  painting. 
It  is  highly  probable  that  Somov's  art,  excessively 
spiced,  suffocatingly  perfumed,  over-refined,  and  mor- 
bidly delicate  as  it  is,  will  undergo  a  re-estimation  in 
the  future,  but  it  can  be  safely  predicted  that  no  other 
artist  of  the  beginning  of  the  twentieth  century  has 
mirrored  with  greater  faithfulness  the  peculiar  charm 
of  our  super-refined  epoch,  which  knows  so  much  and 
believes  so  little.  The  very  defects  of  Somov  are  but 
characteristic  si*gns  of  the  times:  it  is  the  reflection  of 
the  general  senile  decrepitude  of  our  culture, — a  de- 
crepitude which  has  its  immense  horror  and  its  most 
delicate  fascination. 

The  third  prominent  Russian  master  is  Malyavin. 
He  is  Repin's  disciple,  but  he  is  to  Repin  as  Goya  is 
to  Velasquez,  or  as  Fragonard  is  to  Watteau.    The  so- 

184 


Contemporary  Painting 

ber,  normal  painting  of  Repin,  his  conscientious  serv- 
ice of  art,  in  the  sense  in  which  the  school  of  the  sixties 
understood  it,  his  rationality  have  turned  in  Malyavin 
into  a  bacchic  feast  of  colour,  into  most  dashing  dis- 
play of  skill,  into  a  hazy  and  lax  monomania.  Mal- 
yavin has  something  in  common  with  Benard :  by  some 
peculiarities  of  his  technique  he  approaches  the  Scottish 
artists;  finally,  his  kinship  to  Zorn  cannot  be  denied. 
Yet,  technically  Malyavin  is  weaker  and  at  the  same 
time  more  powerful  and  interesting  than  these  artists. 
He  has  less  conscious  skill  and  culture;  his  views  are 
more  limited,  the  colours  coarser,  the  painting  more 
slovenly, — but  there  is  more  "authenticity"  in  his  art; 
he  is  freer,  more  elemental;  he  is  a  true  artist,  savage, 
revelling  in  red  fustian  stuff  like  a  Negro, — a  genuine 
artistic  temperament  strange  to  cold  calculations  in  his 
work.  In  this  respect  he  approaches  the  Impression- 
ists.* Yet  Malyavin  is  by  no  means  an  Impressionist. 
He  has  never  aimed  at  studying  colours  in  nature,  never 
endeavoured  to  render  the  delicate  charm  of  relation- 
ships, the  stir  of  life,  the  poetry  of  the  unexpected. 
Malyavin,  the  true,  mature  Malyavin  is  nothing  but 

^  As  has  been  seen,  Impressionism  has  not  as  yet  appeared  on  the  Russian 
soil.  Only  lately  Russian  residents  of  Paris  and  Miinchen,  such  as  Tark- 
hov  and  Yavlensky,  have  been  converted  to  the  Impressionistic  faith. 
The  Impressionistic  aesthetics  guide  Grabar,  at  least  to  some  extent,  in  his 
latest  pictures.     (Author's  note.) 

185 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

"the  singer  of  Russian  peasant  women."  He  paints 
them  in  all  their  ugly  majesty  and  in  all  the  richness  of 
their  dazzling  colours.  He  loves  the  Russian  "baba" 
(peasant  woman)  as  the  pagan  does  his  idol;  he  wor- 
ships her,  with  her  red  fustian  cloth,  her  coarse  coquetry, 
her  haughty  grin  and  all  her  clumsy  appearance,  which 
mocks  all  the  canons  of  pulchritude  and  has  yet  a  pe- 
culiar beauty.  It  is  before  this  graven  image  that  Mal- 
yavin  kneels  and  burns  incense, — a  phenomenon 
marked  with  the  imprint  of  spiritual  degeneration,  but 
not  devoid  of  grandeur. 

It  has  been  already  mentioned  that  Vasnetzov  in- 
augurated a  certain  revival  of  the  Old-Russian,  "truly 
Russian"  art.  Vasnetzov's  activity,  like  the  entire 
movement  started  by  the  Slavophiles,  has  its  obscure, 
recondite  causes.  One  thing  can  be  said  with  certainty : 
even  here  we  don't  stand  quite  apart  from  the  West. 
Our  Slavophilism  was  a  somewhat  belated  reflection  of 
the  European  nationalistic  movement,  which  grew  up 
in  the  shadow  of  Romanticism. 

In  architecture  the  return  to  old,  mediaeval  Russia 
began — if  we  are  not  to  reckon  Ton's  feeble  attempts 
— with  the  buildings  of  Gornostayev,  Hartman,  Ropet, 
and  Bogomolov.  At  the  same  time  the  first  attempts 
were  made — again,  if  we  exclude  the  endeavours  of 
Solntzev  and  Monigetti — to  create  furniture  in  the 

186 


Contemporary  Painting 

Old-Russian  style.  All  these  efforts  were,  however, 
unsuccessful  and  bore  no  fruits  of  beauty.  The  artists 
have  not  succeeded  in  evoking  the  old,  for  it  was  inap- 
plicable to  modern  life;  it  was  simply  outside  the  sphere 
of  contemporary  culture;  and  as  for  transforming  the 
old  into  the  new,  they  had  not  enough  creative  power 
and  passionate  love  for  the  past.  In  the  seventies  and 
eighties  the  "Russian  Style"  meant  something  wildly 
grotesque,  uncouth,  motley,  and  by  all  means  coarse. 
Only  after  Schwarz  had  restored  in  his  illustrations  the 
more  or  less  accurate  image  of  Old-Russian  life,  and  a 
series  of  painstaking  archeological  investigations  had 
been  completed, — only  after  the  Gagarin  Museum  at 
the  Academy  of  Arts,  and  the  Moscow  Historical 
Museum  had  been  established, — only  then  was  the 
original  beauty  of  Old-Russian  life  unveiled,  and  it 
became  possible  to  create  something  artistically  valu- 
able on  the  basis  of  old  authentic  documents.  This  was 
done  by  V.  Vasnetzov. 

A  worshipper  of  the  Russian  past  and  of  all  that  is 
customary  to  term  purely  Russian  culture,  Vasnetzov, 
was  well  fit  to  undertake  this  work  of  the  restoration 
of  the  past;  he  had  the  talent  and  the  right  attitude. 
Both  this  talent  and  this  scrupulous,  almost  pious  at- 
tention to  his  work  are  reflected  in  his  paintings.  He 
abandoned  the  superficial  smartness  of  Hartman,  Bo- 

187 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

gomolov,  and  Ropet  and  pointed  out  several  essential 
principles  of  Old-Russian  beauty:  its  noble  pictur- 
esqueness,  purposefulness,  strength,  calmness,  and 
simplicity.  But  even  Vasnetzov  could  not  achieve  the 
impossible.  Unable  to  resuscitate  the  dead,  he  made 
nothing  but  an  approximate  pasticcio,  which  for  a  time 
charmed  all  the  dilettantes,  eager  for  new  impressions. 
Vasnetzov's  art,  respectable  in  its  intentions  as  it  is, 
was  in  the  eighties  and  nineties  nothing  but  a  Moscow 
fashion.  It  was  a  more  attractive  fashion  than  the 
Petrograd  fad  for  the  works  of  artists  like  Ropet  and 
Hartman,  yet  it  was  a  fashion,  that  is,  something  es- 
sentially ephemereal  and  unreal.  Nowadays — O  irony 
of  fate  I — Moscow  is  enthusiastic  over  the  Russian 
"Empire,"  the  "decadent  style,"  and  Somov,  as  she  was, 
yesterday,  over  Vasnetzov,  Old-Russian  palaces,  cup- 
boards, fairy-tales,  and  "bylinas"  (old  hero  ballads). 
Vasnetzov  did  not  stand  alone  in  his  endeavour  to 
evoke  the  Old-Russian  beauty.  In  the  eighties  there 
worked  in  the  same  field  the  talented,  but  not  very 
skilful  amateur.  Count  SoUogub,  responsible  for  amus- 
ing illustrations  and  several  decorative  works.  Later 
on,  the  camp  of  painter-nationalists  grew  more  popu- 
lous. It  included  Miss  Polyenov,  Davydov,  Malyu- 
tin,  Korovin,  Roerich,  Golovin,  Bilibin,  and  many 
others.    At  one  time,  Vrubel,  too,  fell  under  the  in- 

188 


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191 

H^B^^HSKii     '^^^^^^^^I^^^H 

PORTRAIT    OF    THE    ARTIST 


Sergyey  Alalyulin 


Contemporary  Painting 

fluence  of  nationalistic  ideas,  but  he  either  radically 
transformed  them,  or  was  swayed  by  them,  and  then 
created  things  that  belong  to  his  weakest  works.  Helen 
D.  Polyenov  (1850-1898)  is  one  of  the  most  honour- 
able representatives  of  Russian  art.  An  untiring 
worker  and  a  truly  cultured  woman,  she  turned  search- 
ingly,  like  Vasnetzov,  to  the  study  of  the  principles  of 
national  Russian  beauty.  At  the  same  time  Miss 
Polyenov  attentively  followed  the  evolution  of  West- 
ern applied  art.  Following  the  example  of  the  Eng- 
lish and  of  Grasset  she  turned  to  nature.  It  is  also  the 
English  who  led  her  to  study  the  Russian  peasant  art, 
in  which  the  popular  taste  found  its  fullest  expression. 
These  studies  resulted  in  her  decorative  experiments, 
which  are  not  very  successful  and  in  her  charming  illus- 
trations to  fairy-tales,  in  which  the  decorative  element 
plays  a  considerable  part. 

In  the  nineties  Miss  Polyenov's  success  was  great. 
It  is  she  who  is  partly  responsible  for  the  art  industry 
of  the  "zemstvos,"  Abramtzev's  Pottery,  Stroganov's 
School,  and  the  carpet  factory  of  Mme.  Choglokov.  It 
is  she  also  who  inspired  other  artists,  such  as  Mary 
Yakunchikov,  Malyutin,  Mme.  Davidov,  Roerich, 
Korovin,  Golovin,  and  Bilibin.  But  nowadays  her  art 
seems  old-fashioned.  Her  dependence  on  the  Western 
art-nouveau,  the  excessive  lightness  of  her  execution,  a 

189 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

slight  affectation  in  colouring,  the  superficiality  in- 
herent in  illustrations,  and  blunders  in  drawing  strike 
the  eye  which  has  grown  callous  to  the  merits  of  her 
works.  Best  of  all  are  some  of  her  illustrations  to  fairy- 
tales, and  her  purely  realistic  sketches,  which  reveal  a 
delicate  understanding  of  nature. 

Malyutin  has  little  in  common  with  Vasnetzov,  but 
it  is  beyond  doubt  that  he  was  led  by  Vasnetzov  in  his 
search  for  "true  Russia."  At  first  Malyutin  was  a  so- 
ber and  direct  realist,  and  only  in  the  middle  of  the 
nineties  he  developed  into  that  bizarre  uncouth  phan- 
tast-decorator,  who  at  one  time  enjoyed  an  outstanding 
success  among  artists  and  amateurs,  but  who  has  now, 
like  Miss  Polyenov,  lost  a  considerable  portion  of  his 
charm  because  of  a  trite  and  frivolous  repetition  of  the 
same  rather  hollow  formula.  Strangest  of  all,  Mal- 
yutin, as  a  realist,  was  a  genuine  master.  His  land- 
scapes, "interieurs,"  and  portraits  of  the  eighties  be- 
long to  the  finest  works  of  his  time.  But  having  en- 
tered the  field  of  popular  and  fantastic  art,  he,  for 
some  unknown  reason,  took  leave  of  all  his  technical 
skill  and  feigned,  out  of  sheer  conviction,  to  be  but  a 
half-witted,  helpless,  and  puerile  dilettante. 

Candour  possesses  great  charm.  But  studied  naivete 
especially  if  it  lasts  for  years,  becomes  something  quite 
intolerable.    We  don't  mean  to  say  that  Malyutin  is 

190 


Contemporary  Painting 

a  mime  or  a  clown.  A  more  sincere,  enthusiastic  artist 
can  hardly  be  found.  But,  unfortunately,  his  sincerity 
and  enthusiasm  are  misplaced.  When  one  admires 
Malyutin's  amusing  fancy,  his  sense  of  colour,  his  true 
artistic  character,  one  regrets  that  all  these  high  quali- 
ties are  absolutely  distorted  and  maimed  by  a  wholly 
wrong  theory,  which  is  deeply  rooted  in  the  artist's 
mind;  namely,  that  the  fundamental  principle  of  the 
Old-Russian  esthetics  is  coarseness,  absurdity,  pueril- 
ity, and  superficiality.  For  many  years  Malyutin  has 
been  obstinately  sticking  to  his  "truly  Russian"  atti- 
tude, to  this  traditional  manner  of  botching  up,  doing 
things  at  random.  This  feature  in  a  talented,  and  nat- 
urally very  delicate  painter  can  be  accounted  for  only 
by  the  general  morbid  state  of  our  culture. 

The  same  discouraging  feature  mars  the  art  of  an- 
other admirable  Moscow  painter — Golovin.  He  is  one 
of  the  richest  colourists  of  modern  Russian  art,  less 
original,  but  perhaps  more  delicate  than  Vrubel.  Gol- 
ovin's  favourite  colour  gamut,  light,  silvery,  with  fas- 
cinating streaks  of  fresh,  vernal  green,  hazy  azure,  and 
patrician  red,  fascinates  like  soft  music.  But  this 
music  jflows  on  not  in  the  finished  form  of  lucid  accords 
or  clear  strains,  but  as  an  elemental,  confused  roar. 
Golovin's  art  is  like  a  hint  at  a  fascinating  but  veiled 
beauty. 

191 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

Golovin  is  at  his  best  in  his  stage  settings.  His  dec- 
orations for  the  "Ice  House,"  are  admirable  but  espe- 
cially beautiful,  grandiose  and  poetic  are  his  stage-set- 
tings for  the  "Women  of  Pskov."  His  sketches  for 
Ibsens's  "Lady  from  the  Sea"  are  painted  throughout  in 
charming  "northern"  tones.  Some  of  his  stage-settings 
for  "The  Magic  Mirror"  and  "Ruslan"  are  replete  with 
that  softness  and  musical  throbbing  that  fills  spring- 
time evenings  in  old  gardens  and  parks.  In  his  inven- 
tions pertaining  to  theatrical  costume  he  is  a  real  vir- 
tuoso. He  lavishes  on  his  costumes  all  the  splendour 
of  his  colourful  fancy,  invents  fabulous  fashions,  and 
combines  historical  forms.  But  it  can  be  said  even 
about  his  best  productions,  that  they  are  afflicted  with 
annoying  defects.  Golovin  is  too  dissolute;  he  is  a 
typical  representative  of  the  Russian  variety  of  the 
artistic  Boheme.  He  will  leave  very  little  behind  him : 
a  few  sketches,  two  or  three  paintings,  several  por- 
traits. All.  this  is  distinguished  by  a  genuinely  artistic 
character,  a  splendour  of  colours,  and  a  delicate  taste, 
yet  it  is  all  nothing  but  hints  and  promises,  which 
Golovin  will  hardly  want  to  keep. 

Golovin's  stage  settings  are  entirely  different  from 
those  of  Bakst.  Golovin's  work  consists  for  the  most 
part  of  improvised  sketches,  rash  and  superficial; 
Bakst's  attitude  toward  his  work  is  on  the  contrary,  one 

192 


fffflrtr  K 1  tt    i{  'Y"    't'  f   - 


Contemporary  Painting 

of  strict  and  careful  consideration.  He  ponders  each 
detail  and  organises  the  ensemble.  He  undertakes 
most  serious  archeological  investigations,  without  sac- 
rificing the  directness  of  the  mood  and  the  poetry  of  the 
drama.  His  mises-en-scene  of  the  classical  tragedies, 
though  not  so  easy  and  brilliant  in  colour  as  Golovin's, 
can  be  considered  ideal,  so  much  careful  thought  and 
delicate  understanding  of  poetry  is  in  them.  Of  an  en- 
tirely different  type  is  his  mise-en-scene  of  the  ballet 
"The  Dolls'  Fairy,"  which  Bakst  transformed  into  a 
charming  Hoffmannesque  tale.  Bakst  is  properly  des- 
tined for  a  stage  where  his  role  would  be  one  of  an  in- 
telligent and  arbitrary  commentator.  Unfortunately, 
the  Imperial  Theatre  does  not  fully  utilise  Bakst,  who 
is  not  only  an  excellent  decorator,  an  intelligent  and 
exquisite  costumer,  but  also  a  resourceful  stage  man- 
ager, wide-awake,  and  rich  in  fresh  ideas. 

Beside  his  work  for  the  stage,  Bakst  expressed  him- 
self also  in  the  field  of  book  illustration.  But,  strange 
to  say,  in  this  branch  which  demands  the  talent  of  a 
commentator  above  all,  Bakst  displays  great  independ- 
ence and  is  often  loath  to  accept  the  rule  of  imposed 
Ideas.  Hence,  his  illustrations  rarely  correspond  to 
what  he  illustrates,  but  they  always  show  him  as  a  vir- 
tuoso and  a  master  of  style.  Bakst  is  a  wonderful, — 
the  most  wonderful  next  to  Somov, — "calligrapher"  of 

193 


The  Russiatt  School  of  Painting 

Russian  art, — that  is  why  the  best  he  did  belongs  to  the 
field  of  purely  ornamental  illustration,  such  as  vi- 
gnettes and  head-and-tail  pieces.  His  ornamental  re- 
sourcefulness is  inexhaustible,  and  his  firm  knowledge 
of  the  human  body  enables  him  to  master  easily  the 
most  complex  compositions.  In  addition,  his  gift  for 
assimilation  is  wonderful:  he  mimics  artistic  manners 
with  absolute  precision.  This  trait  reveals  also  the 
weakness  of  this  highly  gifted  artist:  he  does  not  meet 
the  first  requirement  of  modern  individualistic  aesthet- 
ics, he  is  not  original;  he  is  rather  something  like  a 
"Bolognese"  master,  a  virtuoso  speaking  all  the  lan- 
guages of  the  globe,  but  who  has  no  style  of  expression 
of  his  own.  It  is  difficult  to  forecast  the  future  atti- 
tude toward  Bakst.  If  times  will  change  and  the 
thirst  for  individuality  in  art  will  be  quenched,  then, 
perhaps,  such  personalities  as  Bakst,  such  masters  of 
extraordinary  technique,  will  be  duly  appreciated  and 
given  the  praise  which  now  only  eccentric  artists  en- 
joy. 

The  same  qualities  of  high  culture  and  exquisite  skill 
are  possessed  by  several  other  young  Petrograd  artists. 
Therein  lies  the  essential  difference  between  Petrograd 
and  Moscow  art.  It  is  also  characteristic  that  all  these 
artists:  Somov,  Bakst,  Lanceray,  Dobuzhinsky,  Bili- 
bin, — of  Petrograd,  and  Zamiraylo  and  Yaremich,  of 

194 


Contemporary  Painting 

Kiev  are  almost  exclusively  book-decorators.  They 
have  brought  a  quickening  stream  of  talent  into  the 
musty  atmosphere  of  our  book  industry,  and  owing  to 
them  we  are  witnessing  now  a  sort  of  rebirth,  or  rather 
birth,  of  the  Russian  book. 

The  most  many-sided  of  these  artists  is  Lanceray. 
The  field  of  his  art  is  large.  He  is  very  successful  in 
purely  decorative  subjects,  which  he  executes,  either 
in  some  definite  old  style  or  in  the  manner  created  by 
himself  by  means  of  the  most  delicate  study  of  nature. 
But  Lanceray  is  equally  a  master  in  his  illustrations, — 
figurative  commentaries  to  the  thought  of  a  poet  or 
scientist.  In  this  sphere  he  reaches  a  keenness  of  im- 
pression, a  dramatic  power,  a  mastery  of  masses,  and 
an  historical  penetration  which  remind  one  of  Mentzel. 
His  best  illustrations  have  so  far  been  those  to 
Kutepov's  "Czars'  Hunt"  and  to  our  own  book, 
"Tzarskoye  Selo."  Serious  consideration  should  be 
given,  also,  to  his  scenes  of  old  Petrograd,  his  various 
vignettes  in  the  periodical  Mir  Iskusstva  {The  World 
of  Art)  and  in  other  editions  of  Dyagilev's,  and  even 
the  "Breton  Tales" — the  work  of  his  youth. 

Bilibin  is  the  Petrograd  version  of  the  artistic  cur- 
rent which  was  represented  in  Moscow  by  Miss  Polye- 
nov.  Early  in  his  career  Bilibin  even  imitated  her, 
acquiring  from  her  merits  as  well  as  defects.    By  and 

195 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

by,  however,  Bilibin  found  his  own  way,  and,  although 
Miss  Polyenov's  fairy-tales  were  his  point  of  departure, 
he  left  his  prototype  far  behind  him;  so  that  there  is 
ground  to  believe  that  in  the  future  this  conscientious 
and  gifted  artist  will  succeed  in  creating  a  distinctive 
place  for  himself  and  in  producing  harmonious,  origi- 
nal productions  of  a  high  degree  of  perfection.  Mean- 
while, Bilibin  is  passing  through  a  transitory  phase. 
He  is  gradually  freeing  himself  from  dilettanteism, 
and  is  developing  his  palette  and  technique ;  at  the  same 
time  he  drinks  from  the  well  of  popular  motives,  which 
he  studies  with  great  assiduity.  A  few  more  efforts 
which  would  increase  his  effectiveness,  dramatic 
power,  and  stylistic  harmony,  and  which  would  help 
him  to  get  rid  of  misplaced  pedantism  and  a  certain 
dryness  in  execution — and  we  shall  have  in  Bilibin  an 
admirable  artist. 

Roerich  is  also  a  Petrograd  painter,  but  by  his  nature 
and  his  intentions  he  is  closely  related  to  V.  Vasnetzov. 
By  the  intentional  coarseness  of  his  technique,  by  the 
character  of  his  colouring  which  reminds  one  of  Russian 
gingerbread  and  round  loaves,  he  incontestably  belongs 
to  the  Moscow  group.  Roerich  is  a  very  gifted  man, 
but  of  an  undeveloped  taste,  a  half-barbarian  like  his 
prototype,  Vasnetzov.  He  too  readily  recurs  to  cheap 
effects,  certain  that  in  the  confusion  of  our  artistic  life 

196 


Contemporary  Painting 

it  will  pass  unnoticed.  But  sometimes  he  reaches  a 
considerable  height,  and  some  of  his  works  breathe  a 
vigorous,  truly  epical  spirit.  Very  good  also  are  his 
unassuming,  direct  studies  from  nature. 

The  following  Petrograd  painters  must  be  mentioned 
here:  the  decorator  and  landscapist  Dobuzhinsky, 
whose  modest  but  admirably  delicate  sketches  present 
for  the  most  part,  views  of  Petrograd,  or  quiet,  deserted 
nooks  of  provincial  towns ;  the  classically  strict  Yare- 
mich,  the  greatest  expert  in  printing-types,  who  is 
equally  excellent  in  his  printing  works  and  in  his 
placid,  silvery  landscapes;  the  admirable  calligrapher 
and  decorator  Zamiraylo;  the  wood  engraver  Miss 
A.  P.  Ostroumov,  whose  prints  present  charming  and 
pictorially  delicate  landscapes,  of  an  admirable  style, 
and  another  lady,  Mme.  Lindeman,  who  is  a  worthy 
successor  of  Mary  Yakunchikov  in  the  sphere  of  "pay- 
sage  intime"  and  painting  for  children. 

Here  must  also  be  named  Musatov  (died  in  1905), 
whose  art  is  the  Moscow  modification  of  the  artistic 
formula  represented  in  Petrograd  by  Somov.  This  ex- 
cellent master  chose  the  epoch  of  the  forties  and  fifties 
of  the  past  century  as  the  object  of  his  delicately  fra- 
grant and  fascinating  art.  Despite  a  certain  analogy 
with  Somov,  he  followed  a  wholly  distinctive  road. 
Somov  is  the  artist  of  intimate  moods,  and  of  over- 

197 


The  Russian  School  of  Painting 

refinement,  whereas  Musatov  housed  the  temperament 
of  a  fresco  painter.  His  original  and  noble  style,  his 
silvery  quiet  colours  waited  for  walls  and  broad  sur- 
faces, to  unfold  their  full  power  and  splendour.  Un- 
timely death  has  snatched  away  the  artist  and  deprived 
Russian  art  of  a  master  whom  we  could  ill  spare. 

Here  our  investigation  must  be  concluded.  We 
shall  not  dwell  on  the  latest  phenomenon  of  Russian 
painting:  the  Moscow phantasts  and  symbolists,  Sudey- 
kin,  P.  Kuznetzov,  the  two  Milioti,  and  others.  Their 
artistic  personalities  have  not  crystallised  as  yet.  One 
thing  can  be  already  said  about  them:  they  are  all  very 
gifted  men,  their  art  is  absolutely  genuine,  and  it  is 
highly  probable  that  in  the  nearest  future  they  will 
come  to  hold  the  central  place  on  the  stage  of  Russian 
painting.  In  concluding  this  book  on  the  Russian 
School  of  Painting,  let  us  express  the  wish  that  these 
young  artists  do  not  forget  the  "school."  Formed  in 
the  period  of  the  wildest  confusion  in  the  field  of 
aesthetic  theorising,  deprived  of  the  guidance  of  well- 
tried  principles,  without  either  mature  knowledge  or 
firm  intentions,  they  are  doomed  to  perish,  if  they  will 
not  understand  in  time  all  the  falsity  of  the  artistic 
doctrine  which  confuses  "school"  with  lack  of  original- 

198 


Contemporary  Painting 

ity,  scrupulous  attitude  toward  art  with  pedantism, 
and  preaches  "free  inspiration,"  forgetful  of  that  fact 
that  freedom  without  knowledge  is  the  most  bitter 
slavery. 


THE  END 


199 


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